


Life Overtakes Me

by I_AM_THE_LIVING_DEAD



Category: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alpha Dabi (My Hero Academia), Alpha Kirishima Eijirou, Alpha Todoroki Shouto, Alpha Toogata Mirio, Alpha Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Beta Ashido Mina, Beta Eri (My Hero Academia), Depression, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Intersex Omegas, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Omega Amajiki Tamaki, Omega Midoriya Izuku, Omega Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Omega Shinsou Hitoshi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shinsou Hitoshi Needs a Hug, Suicide Attempt, Teen Pregnancy, Twins, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 23:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_AM_THE_LIVING_DEAD/pseuds/I_AM_THE_LIVING_DEAD
Summary: Aizawa may be the walking definition of deadpan, but he could express himself if absolutely necessary, and this was beyond necessary.How did he never suspect that something wasn’t right?How did he not notice the warnings; see the signs?The shame eats him like a parasite, but one thing is for certain: he’s getting Shinsou out of that household, even if it kills him.*ON TEMPORARY HIATUS.*
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Amajiki Tamaki/Toogata Mirio, Dabi/Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, One-Sided Kaminari Denki/Shinsou Hitoshi - Relationship, Shinsou Hitoshi & Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Shinsou Hitoshi & Original Child Character(s), minor or background relationships
Comments: 53
Kudos: 193





	1. A Cheap Thrill

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Suicide attempt, teenage pregnancy, suspected home abuse, etc. 
> 
> This takes place in the same universe as "Killing & Dying", so Shigaraki and Dabi's kids are around seven-months-old when this all goes down. Shinsou is halfway through his second year at U.A., etc. 
> 
> Enjoy.

The media was going to eat them alive and regurgitate them into a partially-digested clump of bad examples and shameful irresponsibility. 

Maybe he was being overdramatic, but they had a certain flair for pointing out the flaws or minor mistakes in U.A. High-School’s curriculum and security. After the kidnapping incident with Bakugo two years prior that got the teachers torn to shreds by reporters, they had been determined to not let a serious mishap occur again. But, in the grand scheme of things, this was worse. 

Much worse. 

It was honestly shocking that they weren’t being sued by the student’s family, but come to think of it, the parents haven’t shown up or even called. So, the current concern was how this information got released to the public. U.A. had made it their mission to not allow such sensitive info to get out, but somehow, journalists had gotten their hands on it, and were now reporting across the country. 

This topic being controversial and sparking uproar was understandable, but they had no right whatsoever to invade in a student’s privacy. Yes, he believed in freedom of speech, but this was crossing the line. And now, there were civilians rambling about how U.A. should be shut down or at the very least, replaced with “more qualified” staff members. 

Either way, he couldn't deny that they had royally fucked up. 

How is it that with security cameras and hundreds of students, not one person noticed that something was off? Surely, somebody had known something, but so far, every interview ended with the same answers: “I had no idea”, and, “Maybe he looked or smelled a little off, but I thought he was just tired or something.” Of course they thought that with how little sleep this student got, but still. Not even Midoriya had noticed, and that’s saying something. 

Sighing heavily and slumping his shoulders in defeat, Aizawa rubbed at his eyes, exhaustion causing them to weigh fifty pounds. He had attempted to get some shuteye, but couldn’t with the dripping of the IV and the occasional sniffle from the other side of the room. 

When he was first called early this morning, he had been utterly shellshocked, and had nearly had a panic attack. Although he would be reluctant to admit it, he was beyond terrified, and had almost crashed his car driving above the speed limit in a snowstorm. 

There was an untouched plate of apple slices on the bedside table, courtesy of Eri. Ever since Togata and Amajiki had adopted her about half a year ago, she has taken a liking to a majority of students still at U.A., including Shinsou Hitoshi. Luckily, she was too young to understand how dire this was, but still knew that it wasn’t good. So, she stopped by because of tugging on Togata’s sleeve and begging him excessively until he caved. 

She had just left an hour or so ago since she had school tomorrow, and had wished Shinsou sweet dreams. It was up for debate on whether or not he could register her words or anyone else’s, but thinking that he could made everybody feel better, including Aizawa. 

Wracking a hand through his obsidian locks, the Omega leaned back in his cushioned chair and stayed there, as if he were a loyal knight guarding his apprentice. The hospital room darkened as the sun lowered below the horizon and was replaced with a sky vacant of stars because of the light pollution. 

There was a soft knock on the door, and he mumbled permission to enter. The familiar scent of sunflowers and cologne (a strange mix) hit his nose, and Yamada frowned deeply as he gestured for his mate to go into the hallway, a blanket in his arm. Aizawa reluctantly stood up and exited the room, but stood right next to the door, just in case. 

“I’m gonna guess that you’re sleeping here”, Yamada sighed, and Aizawa nodded, narrow eyes not leaving Shinsou’s doorway. Yamada passed the blanket to his husband, kissed his forehead, and told him, “Before you ask, Togata said that Eri is okay, but I’m gonna go home now. If you need anything, call me. I…I know this is hard for you, but he’ll be okay. He’s a tough kid.” Aizawa quirked an eyebrow at the attempted reassurance. 

“If he was okay, he would be talking by now”, he said through gritted teeth, nails digging into his crossed arms, hugging the blanket subconsciously. It was obvious that Aizawa wasn’t truly handling this well, because despite his calm and collected demeanor in public, he wasn’t very talented in processing bad news. 

Depending on what or who the news was about, he would fall into a depression such as when Shirakumo died (only for him to be transformed into Kurogiri which had given Aizawa a whole new layer of grief). But this…in ways, this was worse because this was his own apprentice that he was training and nurturing, and he barely saw the warning signs. 

How could he be so careless? 

A hand grasped his shoulder, and he glanced up through his bangs, charcoal-black eyes meeting light-green orbs. Yamada gave him a small smile, and insisted, “This isn’t your fault. You weren’t the only one who couldn’t tell what was going on. That kid is a master at hiding his feelings; if Midoriya couldn’t tell something bad was happening, I doubt you could’ve. You know how good his intuition is.” 

Irritatingly, he had a point. Midoriya had been devastated when he had been informed of this, and had confessed to having absolutely no idea. In fact, none of Shinsou’s close friends (mainly Ashido, Kirishima, and Kaminari) had been aware; hell, they had hardly noticed his growing distress at all. Yamada was right about Shinsou being a master at masking his feelings with a stoic expression and blunt words. 

Yamada shifted his hand up to card his fingers through Aizawa’s hair, and surprisingly, the Omega didn’t snap at him. Normally, his partner wasn’t a fan of physical affection outside of their house, but they were the only ones in the hallway aside from a nurse leaving her station. 

Yamada repeated firmly for his mate to call him if he needed anything, and Aizawa returned to Shinsou’s room. Once the door clicked shut, he sat down and returned his attention to the teenager about six feet away from him, and inhaled shakily. 

Shinsou Hitoshi. The walking definition of mysterious; the face of gloom. He may as well be Aizawa’s son with how similar they were; the only difference is that Aizawa was never found trying to leap off the top of a dorm building. 

Suddenly, something hot trailed down Aizawa’s cheeks, and he lowered his head, pinching his eyes as he attempted to keep the waterworks at bay. Shuddering, he gradually recomposed himself and created a prediction. 

Tomorrow morning, Shinsou will likely either get immediate therapy or be examined again, if not both. That wouldn’t really give Aizawa time to talk one-on-one with his apprentice, but maybe that was for the best. After all, he failed to read the warnings or take the hints; he didn’t even detect a change in the fellow Omega’s scent. 

But now, he could smell it through the distress. It was faint, but there; a foreign scent that shouldn’t belong to any seventeen-year-old. The pediatrician that had examined him earlier said he was eight weeks along or so, which made Aizawa wonder how the indigo-haired boy had pulled off hiding it. He read somewhere that nausea was horrible in the eighth week, especially with twins, but he wasn’t an expert. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The apology was so quiet that Aizawa hardly heard it, but his eyes widened when he saw Shinsou’s shoulders begin to tremble. Usually, the Hero-in-training had an ironclad will and a surprising amount of pride, but now, he was reduced to a shaking, crying mess curled up on a hospital bed. 

Aizawa was up on his feet and walking over in a flash, sitting at the edge of the bed. Shinsou had his nimble fingers twisted in his hair that would put anyone’s bedhead to shame, palms covering his eyes as crystalline tears trailed down his narrow face. This was humiliating; he was supposed to be powerful and confident, but instead, he was sobbing over something that was his own doing. 

“Come here”, the older Omega ordered, nose slightly scrunched from the overwhelming waves of distress wafting off of his apprentice. Shinsou hesitated at first, breathing quick and jaw clenched as if he were on the verge of a panic attack, but when Aizawa repeated the order, Shinsou reluctantly sat up. 

He slowly shifted over to the other, and Aizawa pulled Shinsou into a hug, holding him tightly and securely, opting for rocking the younger man back-and-forth too when he started sobbing uncontrollably. 

As much as he wanted to know everything, Aizawa kept his mouth shut. The last thing Shinsou needed was a reminder that all of Japan knew that he attempted suicide while pregnant. It was utterly shameful for the teenager, so Aizawa comforted him, assuring him that he would help him figure everything out. 

If Shinsou’s face wasn’t buried in his shoulder, he would have given him an incredulous expression. “N-no! I’m just a-an embarrassment now. You shouldn’t h-h-have me as an a-apprentice…” He trailed off, but the string of self-deprecation continued in his head. 

Aizawa scoffed; he knew Shinsou had had low self-esteem when he was in General Studies, but his confidence had increased tenfold when joining the Hero Course. What the hell changed? 

“You’re not an embarrassment. Just because you’re in a rough spot doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be my apprentice. I’ll help you get through this, but you’ll eventually need to tell me whats going on. I’m your mentor; it’s my responsibility to make sure you’re alright, and this happening…I realized that I failed at looking out for you. I’m sorry for that.” 

Aizawa rarely apologized, no matter if it was for something school-related or with his personal life. Out of the sixteen years he’s been with Yamada (thirteen of which they’ve been married), he’s only apologized twice for arguments they’ve gotten into, and that was because he made Yamada genuinely offended. But, this was a situation where he wanted to apologize over and over again until his voice gave out. 

Shinsou swallowed audibly before falling silent, allowing Aizawa to hold him for a few minutes. When they separated, the seventeen-year-old muttered, “I’m tired”, and laid back down, pulling the blanket over himself. The older Omega nodded and said his goodnights before returning to his chair, draping Yamada’s blanket over himself. 

Despite his efforts, he stayed awake the whole night, paranoia creeping through his bones. He had a dreadful feeling about why Shinsou’s parents weren’t answering the frequent calls from the hospital, but saved that for the morning. 

....

Early morning light seeped in through the sliver in the curtains, casting a bar of gold across the thin mattress. 

Shinsou grimaced when the light hit his indigo eyes, and he rolled over, burying his face back into his pillow. The IV was removed during the night so he could move without tearing it out, which he was grateful for. Despite peoples assumptions, he was an active sleeper, often extending his limbs and waking up with his legs on the floor and his chin caked in drool. 

And yet, he was beyond exhausted. Knowing he had knocked on Death’s door the night before last sent a shiver up his spine, but what bothered him the most was that he didn’t regret it. The frigid wind and high elevation had thrilled him, but right as that metaphorical door cracked open and he lifted a foot, he was stopped and dragged away from the edge. 

He sighed and pretended to be asleep as a nurse entered with breakfast. She placed it on the bedside table and checked him briefly before leaving, and he glanced at the tray. The utensils were plastic, with toast and scrambled eggs that looked anything but appealing, and a styrofoam cup of milk. Jesus, what was he, five? 

But, he wasn’t feeling too nauseated, so he scooped up some egg and chewed it slowly, frowning at the taste. There weren’t any seasonings, but it was better than the garbage he used to eat at home. 

Taking his time eating to avoid vomiting his guts out, he spotted a plate of apple slices. Quirking an eyebrow, he picked up the note set beside it, and stiffened. “Dear Toshi-chan, I hope you feel better. I got an apple for you too. Love, Eri and Class 1-A…”, he read aloud under his breath, and he crumpled it up before throwing it aside. He didn’t need their pity; he did what he did of his own accord. 

The door opened again, and Aizawa entered with a cup of coffee and his computer. His hair was tied back and dark bags decorated his eye sockets, implying that he barely got any sleep, if any at all. Did he stay awake the whole night just to watch him? Shinsou winced and lowered his gaze as his teacher sat in the cushioned chair he had officially claimed as his own. 

“She cut that herself. She’ll be upset if you don’t eat it”, Aizawa warned him, motioning to the sliced fruit. The younger man grimaced, murmured, “I’ll eat it later”, and set the tray aside. He wasn’t in the mood to talk, but he could tell Aizawa was formulating a conversation starter. 

They sat in a strange period of silence for what felt like decades, before Aizawa finally said, “I tried calling your family, but it keeps going to voicemail. Did they have their numbers changed?” Shinsou’s scent changed from the typical sweet aroma associated with Omegas to a nervous, unpleasant odor, and the teenager averted his gaze entirely, mumbling, “…No.” 

It seemed like he was being honest, but the way he responded peaked Aizawa’s curiosity and concern. Glancing up from his laptop screen, he watched Shinsou rub his arm and fidget with the blanket. The topic of family was sensitive to Shinsou, and come to think of it, Aizawa didn’t know shit about the other’s personal life. Shinsou always dodged or brushed off personal questions, insisting that his family wasn’t worth mentioning. Aizawa had a sinking feeling that something was amiss, so he made a mental note to bring it up to Nezu later. 

“I hate to break it to you, but you’ll likely have to tell your therapist about the basic details of your family at the least”, the charcoal-eyed man reminded him, and Shinsou sighed slowly and heavily, as if there were tons upon tons of steel weighing on his shoulders. 

Maybe there was. 

Twisting his fingers into his pant-leg, Shinsou hissed, “I don’t get why I have to talk to a therapist. I’m fine; I don’t need someone giving me their fake pity. They’re just doing their job. They don’t actually give a crap.” Aizawa just had to rule his eyes at that. 

“Don’t act like a cliché. A therapist is obligated to help you, but they don’t want you to suffer. And, I’ve made it clear that you shouldn’t lie to me”, Aizawa said sternly, narrowing his eyes at his apprentice. 

When Shinsou chose to draw the stupidity card and act like he didn’t know what Aizawa was referring to, the thirty-three-year-old stated straight-forwardly, “You tried to jump off the roof of your dorm. That’s not you being fine. You’re going to get help, and I’ll help you figure your other situation out.” 

Shinsou bit his lip and instinctively hugged his knees so he was hiding his belly. It wasn’t noticeable to anyone but himself; a barely-visible swell that he would profess and dissimulate. Carrying twins doubled the difficulty, but whenever he considered an abortion, he would then bail on it. To break it down, he was outright terrified, and despite the fact that aborting them would make his future plans more concrete, he couldn’t imagine getting rid of them. It wasn’t even his fault that he was pregnant, though he was convinced that it was. 

A little while later, Shinsou was escorted by a nurse to an obstetrician he had met yesterday, and anxiety prickled his skin. Aizawa didn’t offer to come with, but Shinsou appreciated that because of how ashamed he was. Instead of a Hero-in-training, he was just the typical teenage Omega that got knocked up. It nearly brought tears of frustration to his tired eyes, but he kept them at bay. 

He was led into a small office with ultrasound equipment, and the OB-GYN smiled at him, promising that she would make sure everything goes smoothly. He sat on the hospital bed, and she turned on the screen while grabbing her clipboard. “Before you have your ultrasound, I need to ask you a few questions. I’m sorry, but they’re mandatory”, she told him, and he shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Do you have any physical health problems, and if not, are there any that run in your family?” 

“Not that I know of. I get headaches sometimes, but that’s when I use my Quirk too much.” 

“Is your Quirk a mutation, or either a combination of your parents’ Quirks or from one side?” 

Well, that was new, and he knew that lying to her face would have repercussions, so he reluctantly confessed, “Mutation.” 

She checked a box and continued. “Have you been diagnosed with any mental health problems before…you know.” He shook his head. “Don’t take this last question personally; I have to ask it with all my patients”, she informed him, and added when he nodded, “Have you kitted before?” 

He froze stiff as a board, white pupils dilating. She noticed his reaction immediately, and had a rising suspicion that she knew his answer. Opening his mouth, he then clicked it shut, only to lower his head and whisper a confirmation that he has. 

It was all going to go to shit now. He knew it was going to, and that made him feel powerless; helpless even. What the hell was he supposed to do? 

He made an irresponsible decision, and everything was worse now.


	2. Another Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashido keeps Shinsou company, and Aizawa pays Shinsou's parents a visit.   
> He doesn't like who he meets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter! I'm so shocked at how much love this has gotten already, but I am so grateful for it! Your guys' love keeps me going and brights my day. 
> 
> Anyway, things are about to get real. Brace yourselves, compadres. 
> 
> Enjoy.

This must be false information. 

Either it was a misunderstanding or forgery. There was no possible way that this slipped under their noses; they would have noticed it in a heartbeat. It raised questions, comments, and concerns, but nobody spoke a word, instead opting for waiting for Nezu to speak. 

He was quiet for a minute or two, eyes hardened and calculating, the metaphorical gears turning. Eventually, he pressed his paws together and asked, “Have his parents reached out yet?” Aizawa shook his head solemnly, and Kayama quirked an eyebrow. “If this is true, it would’ve been in his medical records, right?”, she inquired, and Yagi debated with, “Not necessarily. These days, forgery with even medical records is a walk in the park. Unless he took this out himself, someone else did so we wouldn’t know.” 

That seemed like a logical explanation, but Aizawa found it highly unlikely that Shinsou would discard such important information himself. Sure, he had sacrificed sleep and free time to qualify for the Hero Course, but he was responsible enough to take care of himself physically. 

According to the obstetrician’s report, he has kitted before, though he refused to admit at what age. He must have before entering U.A., which meant he could have been as young as twelve. That brought a sickening sensation to Aizawa’s stomach, and he wondered what his apprentice went through to end up pregnant again and on suicide watch. 

He was released from the hospital three days prior, but was missing classes for the remainder of the week because of the risk of him harming himself, others bullying him, and severe nausea. Ashido had been visiting him frequently to keep him company and aid him through what was known as the most difficult week of the first trimester, which Shinsou was secretly grateful for. 

For quite awhile, fellow students thought that Midoriya was the walking definition of heroic, but it had been Ashido who had convinced Shinsou not to jump. Of course, she was under extreme pressure and had improvised everything she yelled up to him, but he had been distracted enough by her for teachers to come up and pull him away from the edge. Even with such a risky situation, she hadn’t shed a tear, though she had been on the verge when Shinsou was admitted to the hospital. 

“What does it say about his parents on his admission records?”, Yamada inquired, and Nezu flipped open Shinsou’s file, removing a sheet detailing his parents’ contact information and home address. 

“Well, their names are Jomei and Nozomi Shinsou, but they didn’t submit that much information. I think it would be best if one of us goes to them in-person. I’m sure they’ve heard about Shinsou’s ordeal on the news, but them not contacting us is a reason for concern”, Nezu decided, and Aizawa immediately volunteered. 

“Are you sure, honey? You can get kind of…dark when dealing with neglectful people”, Kayama pointed out, and the Omega huffed in irritation. “I’ll be fine. Give me their address and I’ll pay them a visit on Sunday”, the charcoal-eyed man settled on, and Nezu passed the info sheet to him. Hm, there weren’t even profile pictures of his parents. 

Weird. 

Meanwhile, Shinsou was violently ill in his dorm room, hunched over the toilet as Ashido held his overgrown bangs back with one hand and rubbed his spine in a circular motion with the other. All-day nausea was common in the ninth week, and the smell of vomit disgusted the Beta, but she had promised to help him through this, and she wasn’t about to back down because of some puking. 

“Ugh, this fucking sucks”, Shinsou rasped as he lifted his head, the aftertaste almost making him sick again. Ashido fetched him a cup of water which he gladly accepted, drinking it all in one go. 

He remembered how nauseous he had been with his first pup too, but refused to let that memory fully resurface. He buried that hatchet four years prior and he wasn’t about to pull it out of the ground. 

“I know it does, but look on the brightside: it should die down after this week”, Ashido reminded him with an encouraging smile, but he just gave her a deadpan expression in return. Flushing the toilet, he washed his hands and splashed water on his face, noticing in the mirror that the bags under his eyes were a little darker and heavier than normal. That was expected with how stressed he was. 

Trudging out of the bathroom, he dropped onto his mattress and threw an arm over his eyes, ignoring the vague pressure on his spine. Ashido curiously brought her gaze to his stomach, which wasn’t visible with the oversized shirt he was wearing, but it was…strange. She could faintly detect the foreign scent indicating that he was pregnant, but didn’t mention it. 

Instead, she sat criss-cross beside him and scoffed when she saw his nails. They were bitten and uneven (a result of his nervous tics and not being allowed to use any sharp objects, including nail clippers), and told him, “I’m giving you a manicure. Your nails look like they went through a shredder.” 

Shinsou groaned and rolled over, mumbling, “No. Let me sleep.” “It’s the middle of the day! I know you aren’t feeling great, but you need to be at least a little active”, Ashido scolded, obsidian scleras and golden irises staring at him. The Omega muttered something she couldn’t make out, but he wasn’t running away, which implied that he would let her do what she wanted. 

Pulling out her on-the-go nail-hygiene bag from her backpack, she grasped his left wrist and set his hand on her knee. Getting to work, she clipped and filed his nails while he laid there, now staring at the ceiling. 

Despite popular belief, they weren’t attracted to each other in a romantic way. Betas rarely become interested in finding partners, and Ashido had had minor crushes on celebrities when she was a pre-teen like every kid did, but simply had no desire to mate with anyone. 

Meanwhile, Shinsou was technically bonded (without a bond, he couldn’t be pregnant) but he failed to say who it was with. Ashido knew not to pry, but was silently hoping that he would tell her eventually. 

She thought back to that frigid evening where she just happened to be walking from U.A. to her dorm building, and saw a flash of indigo on the roof. The second she realized it was Shinsou, her brain had gone into panic mode, and she honestly couldn’t recall half of what she said. It was like when she saved her middle-school friends from Gigantomachia on the street corner; she had acted on autopilot, and had survived because of it. 

The pink-skinned girl wasn’t religious, but when Shinsou actually listened to her and didn’t plummet to the concrete, she had felt some unidentifiable presence. It was probably all in her head, but she had certainly felt different. It was hard to describe, but she was just exponentially grateful. 

Yes, he was on suicide watch and had to attend therapy, but at least he was here. 

At least he now has a bigger chance at growing old. 

Not everybody does. 

....

For a Sunday morning in decently-heavy snowfall, the traffic was ridiculous. 

Aizawa had very little patience for inexperienced drivers, and it seemed like half of the people on this main road had no fucking idea what they were doing. From flashing the wrong turn signals to nearly causing a collision, they were shitty at this life skill, and he dropped his forehead on the wheel as another car swerved and cut in front of him. 

Figures. 

Sighing, he glanced at his phone. Still no reply from Shinsou’s parents. His gut feeling was telling him that something was very off with this picture, and he tried painting a mental portrait. He could see Shinsou, but his family was just…smeared figures behind him. Aizawa could relate to that, but that was future nostalgia not worth going through now. 

Finally making it to Kasukabe in the Saitama Prefecture, he automatically took notice to its ghost-town appearance. It was practically deserted aside from a few elderly couples and rugged teenagers. The only thing this petite city was known for was the Crayon Shin-chan series, but nobody cared about that nowadays. And, he had heard something about the only local department store shutting down, which could be the reason that this neighborhood was so…lifeless. 

The apartments and businesses were aged and worn-down, exteriors cracked like wrinkles on skin. Signs advertising food or pleasure were faded, and a stray dog dashed across the road, fur matted. 

Damn, how could anyone live in such a sad place? Well, if they were struggling financially, living here would be easy, but this definitely seemed like an area where the sun never shines. 

Finding the three-story building he was looking for, he parked and exited his car, shoes crunching on the gathering snow. Approaching the front door, he scanned the six doorbells and pressed on the fourth. There was radio silence for about thirty seconds, before a slurred female voice snapped, “Whadd’ya want? I’ll get the rent ta’ ya’ tomorrow, got it?” 

Aizawa frowned and said into the rusted speaker, “I’m the Pro-Hero Eraserhead, and I’m a teacher at U.A. High-School. I’m here regarding your son, Shinsou Hitoshi. Can I come in?” Talking formally wasn’t something he enjoyed, but it was necessary if he was going to find out what the hell was going on. 

Once again, silence. 

Tapping his foot, he was about to hit the doorbell again when it buzzed, and the door unlocked. Stepping inside, the stench made him cringe; the lobby smelled like piss and dead dog. The walls were tagged with graffiti, all of the mailboxes except for one stuffed to the brims, and he walked up the creaking staircase until he reached the second floor. There were two apartments to a floor, and he knocked at the right one, noticing a hole through the wood partially-covered with duct tape. 

It swung open, revealing a voluptuous woman who reeked of cigarettes and gin. She had the same color of hair and eyes as Shinsou, but her hair fell in tangled dreadlocks that haven’t been tended to in days, if not weeks. Her sweet aroma indicated that she was an Omega, and she raised a pierced eyebrow at Aizawa. 

In fact, she sported so many facial piercings that it was somewhat hard to look at her. With three lip, four eyebrow, and three nose, the silver hoops were like eyesores against her bone-white complexion, and the dark bags under her eyes resembled polluted waters on purple sunsets. 

She was also covered head-to-toe in tattoos, some of which were beautifully-detailed while others were grossly obscene. Clad in nothing but a revealing tank-top and short-shorts, she removed the cancer stick from her pierced lips with claw-like acrylic nails, flashing crooked teeth, a few of which were gold or silver caps. 

Eyeing him, she said, “Who’d you say you were?” She was obviously tipsy, but probably coherent enough to chat. Aizawa opened his mouth when a gruff voice shouted, “Who the hell you talking to, Noz?!” The woman rolled her eyes and yelled back, “The guy from downstairs, dumbass!” 

She turned back to Aizawa, signaling for him to continue, and the taller Omega repeated, “I’m Eraserhead, and I’m a teacher at U.A. High-School. I’m here about your son, and I was hoping you could answer a few questions, starting with why you haven’t answered our calls.” 

“Noz” took a drag from her cigarette and said simply, “What ‘bout him? He tried takin’ a swan dive, and got knocked up again. Not our problem.” 

Aizawa couldn’t believe what he was hearing. First off, the “again” meant that he was definitely pregnant when he lived with them, and the sheer lack of concern shocked him. Taking a long, deep breath, Aizawa questioned sternly, “Well, you’re his parent, and still his legal guardian. Is there a reason that you don’t think it’s your problem?” 

Sighing exasperatedly, Nozomi then growled, “Listen here, fuck-face. Ya’ don’t get ta’ barge up here and act like ya’ know whats best for him. He’s my son, and he fucked up my life, so I don’t have ta’ da’ shit for him. Besides, he’s an Omega; all we’re good for is being housewives, and he’s gettin’ a head-start.” 

Gritting his teeth, Aizawa took a step forward, attempting to reign in his temper. It took a lot to set him off, but her saying something so condescending was offensive. “If you don’t cooperate, the police will have to get involved”, he warned, releasing a threatening pheromone that did make her lean away, but not back off. What kind of ordeals did Shinsou go through in this household? 

Nozomi crushed her cigarette in an ashtray and clicked her pierced tongue. “Ya’ don’t need ta’ da’ that. His life was fine, and now he’s gonna be some hotshot Hero, yeah? Or he’ll be a baby-maker; doesn’t matter ta’ me. He went ta’ your fancy, preppy school ta’ make money for his motha’, but he doesn’t wanna da’ that for me, so I don’t give a shit what he’s doin’”, she stated, and when Aizawa tried to answer, she slammed the door in his face. 

The thirty-three-year-old stood there, stunned. This…in ways, it explained everything. Why he had been so envious of Midoriya; why he had had such low self-esteem. Swallowing audibly, Aizawa left, and climbed back into his car. Scrolling through his contacts, he found what he was looking for and pressed on it. 

He’s getting Shinsou out of their custody and household, even if it kills him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aizawa is feeling s u s p i c i o u s. 
> 
> Ashido is a good friend. 
> 
> Please tell me what you thought, and thank you for reading!


	3. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation into Shinsou's family begins, and all he can feel is helplessness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Implied sexual abuse and child abuse towards the end. If you are sensitive to those, please do not read. 
> 
> I decided that "Killing & Dying" will be put on hiatus because it's difficult to switch back-and-forth in the timeline. This story takes place five years before the events of "Killing & Dying", so after this is done, I will continue the other. 
> 
> I am so shocked by how much attention this has gotten, but it is highly appreciated! Thank you so, so much!! 
> 
> Enjoy.

2:34 AM. 

Hunched over at the dining room table, Aizawa scribbled down notes and scrolled through articles on his laptop, having refilled his mug of coffee a few minutes prior for the sixth time in a seven hour span. This upcoming situation wasn’t going to be a walk in the park; if anything, it was going to be a jog through a landmine. 

One wrong step, and everything goes to shit. 

The creak of a door indicated that Yamada had awakened from his slumber, and was likely going to chew him out for staying up so late. Aizawa would accept the scolding, but that wouldn’t stop him from doing his research. This was his top priority, but in the grand scheme of things, how much power did he and law enforcement have when Shinsou refused to cooperate? 

“Why’re you still up, babe? It’s…”, Yamada trailed off to check the microwave clock, “…past two in the morning. Come to bed.” “In a minute”, Aizawa pushed, typing into the search bar as Yamada came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his husband’s neck. 

“Shouta, I get that this means a lot to you and you want to help him, but we’ve got class tomorrow. At least get a little bit of shuteye so you don’t fall asleep while teaching again”, the blonde Alpha sighed, rubbing his eyes as the Omega reluctantly caved, shutting his laptop and pushing his stack of notes to the side. 

Standing up with a satisfying crack to his spine, he let Yamada lead him by the wrist to their bedroom. Climbing under the comforter, his eyelids immediately went from weighing fifty pounds to one-hundred, and his muscles relaxed as Yamada looped an arm around his thin waist and assured him quietly, “It’ll be okay.” 

As much as Aizawa wanted to believe that, he had a sinking feeling that that was a lie. 

....

"Your psychiatrist told me that you stopped taking your anti-depressants. Is that true?" 

His silence spoke volumes. Adjusting her glasses, his therapist waited a little longer, and when all she got was a nervous fidget, she sighed and dropped her shoulders. “It’s dangerous for you to suddenly go off anti-depressants. It can tamper with your chemical balances and affect you mentally. Your health is important, so can you please tell me why you threw them away?” 

Shinsou bit the inside of his cheek. Ms. Miyagi was a sweet, patient woman in her early thirties, with hot-pink tentacles for hair that moved on their own. They only went to her jawline, but it was always a sight to behold when she walked past. Most of her wardrobe was pink as well; pink lipstick, pink-tinted jewelry, pink clothing; even her irises were pink, with abnormally-long eyelashes. Overall, she didn’t look anything like a psychologist/therapist, but she definitely wasn’t the worst one he’s had. 

Trying to formulate a quick response, he hesitantly said, “I read that it could harm the pups. I don’t want them to be unhealthy.” He had a good point, but on a broader scale, he had no excuse to trash all his medication without telling anyone. Luckily, he only did it four days ago, so they had plenty of time to prescribe new anti-depressants before he went through a risky withdrawal stage, but she could tell just by his anxious scent that he didn’t want to take them. 

“Well, it’s good that you’re concerned for them, but their health will also be at risk if you attempt to harm yourself again. Mental health is just as important as physical, so I’ll tell your psychiatrist to give you another prescription. But, the dosage will stay the same to ensure your pups’ health”, Ms. Miyagi decided, writing down a note on her pad as she spoke. 

Shinsou lowered his gaze. He didn’t want to take them, and he was convinced that he didn’t need them. He only tried taking a swan-dive once, so why the hell was it such a big deal? It wasn’t like he had some hollowness in his heart that couldn’t be filled no matter what he accomplished…that was ridiculous. He was fine. This all was fine. 

The alarm on Ms. Miyagi’s phone went off, informing them that their time was up for today. He would have felt relief, except that he was missing half of his classes again because he had an ultrasound, and then had to talk to a social worker for some bizarre reason. 

On his way out of her office, he cursed internally; if he hadn’t let himself get knocked up, none of this would have happened. Damnit, this was all his fault, and if the school found out about the shit he dealt with at home, everything would fall apart. 

“Motherfucker”, he muttered as he swerved through crowds of students to reach his destination. They flocked away from him as if he had some deadly virus, but in reality, they just didn’t want to be friends with him or even acknowledge him. Nobody wants to be friends with a pregnant, suicidal Omega, and self-consciousness ate away at his psyche as he made a turn and approached Recovery Girl’s office. 

Going to her for his appointments was far easier than having to drive to the hospital every few weeks, and unlike hospitals who charge an unfair amount of money, Recovery Girl was free. Shinsou appreciated that, because he wasn’t even close to being able to afford medical bills, and no way in hell would his parents pay for it. 

Entering her office, he was surprised to see Kaminari sitting on a hospital bed, giggling like a drunken school girl as Recovery Girl examined him. “You need to get this Quirk under control, boy! Only halfway through your second year and you’ve been here almost as much as Midoriya”, RG scolded, shaking her head as she wrapped a heated blanket around him. Kaminari instinctively buried himself in it as his fried brain slowly regained thought, and he said through the minor shocks going through his muscles, “Sorry, RG. Training is getting pretty intense these days, so I’ve had to use my Quirk a lot.” 

“Keep doing that and you might just lose that tiny brain of yours”, Shinsou teased, walking past them and sitting on a bed in the corner. Kaminari blushed as soon as Shinsou spoke to him, and the indigo-haired boy wished he had remembered to put on a scent blocker. Kaminari wasn’t the type of Alpha who made a physical move on people, but it was quite obvious that he had a romantic interest in Shinsou. 

Meanwhile, Shinsou’s plate was overloaded with shit to do, and coupled with him preparing for pups, he simply didn’t have the time or energy for a relationship. Plus, he had absolutely no desire to be with Kaminari in an intimate way, and had attempted to make that clear in the past by releasing warning pheromones and glaring at him when the other flirted with him. And yet, Kaminari was relentless, even when knowing that Shinsou was pregnant (whatever happened to him liking Jiro?). 

RG left Kaminari’s bedside to bring her attention to Shinsou, and gave him a reassuring smile when he instinctively emitted an anxious scent. Seeing the inside of his womb and those two tiny pups moving beside each other both fascinated and petrified him, and he inhaled shakily as she set up the ultrasound machine. 

Kaminari glanced back at them, and Shinsou asked if they could close the curtain so he could have privacy. “Of course, dear”, RG said, and she told Kaminari that she would check on him shortly, before pulling the curtain shut. The Omega lifted his sweatshirt (he was allowed to wear casual clothing when not in class), revealing a belly that was a little round to people that were seeing close-up, but was mostly unnoticeable to passerby (it was bigger than normal because he had kitted before). Well, correction: since most of Japan knew he was expecting, many of his classmates would glance at his torso when he walked by. 

There were a few stretch-marks on his lower belly, and as cold gel was applied to the taut skin and the wand was moved around, RG questioned him about his symptoms. 

“The nauseas pretty much gone, but my back’s been hurting like hell”, he reported, and RG replied as she examined the screen, “That’s normal for twins at ten weeks, but if it persists, come back to me. We don’t want them being unhealthy, now do we? Speaking of which, have you been taking your vitamins?” 

He nodded, and she wrote that down before pointing out the two fetuses to him. They were the size of strawberries, and they appeared to be facing each other, their minuscule limbs shifting. It stunned him that that was happening right underneath the protection of his skin and flesh, and he swallowed. 

He’s known for almost four weeks that he’s going to be a parent in early June (it was currently the first week of December), but he was having trouble processing it, especially after the trauma of his first delivery. 

“They both look perfectly healthy, but I’m afraid you’ll have to stay a little while longer. The tenth week is when they’re checked for developmental disorders, so just relax while I set up. I promise, it won’t hurt a bit”, RG vowed, leaving the confines of the curtain. Shinsou stared at the screen, listening to the heartbeats. If only he had had this kind of access to medical care the first time, but constantly looking in the rearview mirror wasn’t productive. He had to look forward, no matter what. 

Suddenly, Kaminari approached the crack in the curtain, and asked permission to enter. Omegas were naturally defensive of their unborn pups around Alphas they weren’t mated to, so Shinsou had the urge to growl or even use his Quirk, but Kaminari didn’t deserve that. His sappiness may annoy Shinsou, but it was coming from a good place. 

Poking his head through and craning it to the screen, Kaminari’s eyes widened when he saw the image. “Woah, that’s what they look like? That’s crazy”, he commented, observing them shift slowly in that small, yet warm and shadowed space. Actually snickering, the taller of the two inquired, “What, you’ve never seen something like this in a movie?” 

“Nope. I mostly watch action movies, so stuff like this is never in them”, the blonde informed him, leaning in a bit to get a better look at them. Tilting his head, Kaminari questioned, “Whose your Alpha anyway? You don’t have to tell me; it’s just that I don’t smell anyone from here on you.” 

The aura in the room changed quicker than a bullet train switching tracks. Red consumed the edges of Shinsou’s vision, and he choked out, “Kaminari?” “Yeah?”, the other said back, and his pupils became devoid of light, his limbs falling to his sides. “Get. Out”, the Omega ordered through gritted teeth, and his friend sluggishly exited the office, wandering down the hall. He could fall down the stairs to break the trance for all Shinsou cared; why the fuck would he ask about such information? 

RG returned with a box of testing kits, and quirked an eyebrow at Kaminari’s absence and the waves of distress radiating off of Shinsou. “Did something happen?”, she wondered, concern evident in her expression, and Shinsou mumbled, “No. Lets get this over-with.” 

....

Introductions weren’t his forte, so he simply gave the social worker a nod when he sat in the cushioned plastic chair. It did anything but wonders for his back, and he grunted in discomfort as the muscular woman introduced herself as Fukukado Emi, though she was known by the public as Ms. Joke. 

Hm, so she was a triple threat. 

Most Pro-Heroes that worked as teachers had very little downtime, and her coming all the way from Ketsubutsu Academy naturally made him suspicious. But, he didn’t allow it to show, and kept a stoic expression with his hands fisted on his knees, indigo eyes darkened with underlying hostility. She was going to be treated with bluntness and little-to-no emotion, because the last thing he needed was fake sympathy or crocodile tears if he was forced to talk about his parents and their lack of parenting skills. 

Suddenly, a package of sashimi with a water bottle and orange for dessert were pushed over to him on the table, and he quirked an eyebrow. “Recovery Girl told me that you haven’t eaten since this morning. Can’t be talking on an empty stomach!”, Fukukado said cheerfully, pulling out food for herself along with a notepad and folder. 

Shinsou grimaced, nose scrunching up. The air of her temporary office was stale and filled with untrustworthy aromas. He instinctively stiffened when Fukukado flipped open the folder, chewing on sashimi of her own as she quickly read what Aizawa had written about his encounter with Shinsou’s mom. 

The teenager had an anxious feeling from this, which made him think of the worst possible scenario. 

If he confessed everything that happened behind closed doors, he could be put in the foster system, and in no time, could be expelled from U.A. and moved throughout said system while raising a handful of pups until he’s a legal adult. Then, he would develop even worse attachment issues from losing his connection to Aizawa Sensei, which would impact his performance in the workplace, which could result in being fired, which could end in his pups being taken away and him being clinically depressed, or worse, a drug addict living on the streets with no sense of direction and it—

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! Just breathe, alright? I know you’re nervous, but I promise that I won’t force you to talk about stuff that makes you upset. This is a safe space, okay?”, Fukukado reassured him, giving him a calm smile. Shinsou swallowed audibly and kept his gaze on the adjacent wall as he nodded. 

Once he calmed down, he picked up his orange and broke it into slices as the Alpha fiddled with her pen and settled on where to start. “I understand that you might not be comfortable talking about your living situation, but we’re concerned about your wellbeing because of your parents not answering our calls when you were in the hospital. What do your parents do for a living?” 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “They’re unemployed, but Dad was a bartender and Mom was a cook. They worked at the same place, so that’s how they met”, he explained, and Fukukado questioned, “Why are they unemployed, and are they looking for jobs?” 

Shinsou hesitated. What was he supposed to tell her? 

He couldn’t lie to a Pro-Hero, but if he admitted why they were jobless, would the scenario he conjured up before become reality? He thought about it for a minute, but then decided that he didn’t have very much to lose at this point. 

“Mom skipped work too much and Dad attacked a customer. He got sued for it, which made us lose a crap-ton of money. They aren’t looking for jobs, and I don’t think they will. They don’t care about that stuff.” 

His answers were short, but they were something. She went to the next question. 

“Can you tell me about your relationship with your parents?” From what Aizawa wrote, Shinsou Nozomi was a total bitch, but she needed confirmation on that. So, she waited patiently while Shinsou wracked a hand through his hair and shifted in his seat. 

“They drink. A lot. And they like drugs; they really like drugs. When they were working, they’d spend all their money on getting drunk or high. I was a pup when they got fired, so they didn’t want to waste money on me. They’d leave me spare change and I’d have to go get food, but then they’d take it when I came back. They did it to my sister too.” 

“You have a sister? She doesn’t show in your records”, Fukukado interrupted, and the expression Shinsou gave her displayed a heart-wrenching amount of pain. His face was blank, but his eyes…his eyes said it all. 

“She’s dead. She hung herself when I was eleven. She was a few years older than me, but she actually gave a shit…my parents just sent her body to a morgue. No funeral. They didn’t even cry when they found her. Instead, they complained about how…how she’d start to smell if they didn’t get rid of her.” 

He swallowed again and needed a minute to recompose himself. This was humiliating, him getting emotional; he blamed it on the pregnancy hormones. Fukukado quietly said her condolences, understanding that this was serious. 

There were no smiles. 

No jokes. 

No laughter. 

“She was everything to me. She’d sneak out at night and play music on the streets to make money, and sometimes she’d let me go with her. I’m not into this nostalgic bullshit, but…she told me that I didn’t need to be a housewife or have pups. She said I could be whatever the hell I wanted, and look how I turned out. On fucking suicide watch with pups that are HIS." 

Fukukado tilted her head, and inquired, “Who is the person you’re referring to?” “My Dad. The first pup is his but I don’t know with these two.” 

The room fell eerily silent. Fukukado stared at him with a stunned face, and Shinsou slowly but surely realized what he had said. The seventeen-year-old panicked and exclaimed, “I didn’t mean that! I just…I wanna move on.” “Wait, wait. Can you please repeat what you said before?”, the Alpha asked, and he frantically shook his head, insisting that she misheard him. 

Fukukado held up a hand and spoke a little louder so he would listen. “This is important, sweetie. I need you to repeat what you said about your pups. I want to help you, so you need to repeat what you said”, she ordered, and Shinsou stiffened. 

No. No, no, no, no, why did he admit that? In a state of panic, he continued to deny that he said it, but it couldn’t be forgotten. Fukukado was sure there was more, but this was more than enough to take action. 

Aizawa was going to lose his shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna start a petition for us to kill Shinsou's parents. Who is with me? 
> 
> Also, where is Shinsou's first pup? Cliffhanger, sorry haha. 
> 
> Please tell me your critiques or constructive criticisms, and thank you for reading!


	4. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a life lesson: it's always the ones you love the most who break your heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Child abuse and a sexual scene towards the middle of the chapter. 
> 
> I'm really sorry for this. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Shinsou Hitoshi believed in education, but this much homework was going overboard. 

Seriously, how many assignments could he possibly need to understand basic calculous and English? He would prefer to snag a bag of chips from the kitchen and lounge on his bed while encouraging his daughter to play with her action figures or scribble with crayons on printer paper, but instead, he was doing assignment after assignment as if he were preparing for a college exam. 

Glancing at the clock on top of the television, Shinsou decided that this was enough for one night, and shoved all of his homework into his backpack. It was far too late at night to play with his four-year-old, but hopefully, they would be able to interact tomorrow if his parents left him alone. Having to come home on weekends sucked, and as soon as he had arrived in the afternoon, they had screamed his ears off about how they got a call from the school, over him “running his mouth.” 

Dad had been especially angry, and Shinsou had a nice, big blackish-purple blossom spreading on his jaw. He would have to steal Mom’s concealer again, but in the meantime, he trudged to bed with the vague sounds of a headboard hitting a wall resonating through the cluttered hallway. Couldn’t Dad ever keep his dick in his pants for three goddamn seconds? 

Entering his bedroom, Shinsou yawned and locked the door so he and Ayame wouldn’t be startled awake at 3:00 AM by his drunken, imbecilic parents. Dropping his bag by his bed, he turned off the lamp but flicked on the nightlight, and kicked off his shoes before climbing into bed. Sliding under the covers, he dropped his head on his pillow and sighed heavily. 

His daughter was curled up with his first and only stuffed animal: a spotted cat named Mr. Sprinkles. The seventeen-year-old remembered when he got that plushie at a mere five-years-old, and had begged Mom on his knees for it. She had caved and shoved it into his hands before strolling off and making him follow her, but he had just been happy to have a toy. 

He had saved up money and had managed to buy Ayame a couple toys throughout the years, but Mr. Sprinkles was her favorite, despite its worn fur and tear on its leg. The Omega was guessing that she liked it because it smelled like him, and they only saw each other on weekends. 

Whenever he would leave on Sundays, she would cling to his shirt and plead for him to stay, which always made his heart twist painfully in his chest. 

If his parents finally get arrested or lose custody of him, he’ll take her with him in a heartbeat. But, until then, he was condemned with departing from her continuously. The guilt killed him half the time, because even if she didn’t have poor eyesight, speech, and limited cognitive thinking, no four-year-old could defend themselves against a grown man and woman with fully-functioning Quirks. 

Speaking of which, that was the other problem: Ayame was Quirkless. 

Shinsou had hoped she would be a late bloomer like him, but he had shown signs of developing a Quirk despite it being a mutation. She had none, so she had no armor, shield, or sword. Sure, his parents weren’t as dangerous as Overhaul or sliced Ayame apart for personal gain, but they were close seconds. 

What he absolutely despised was what they called her. 

From “retarded dumbass” to “mongoloid”, they consistently reminded her of how she struggled with communicating and thinking. Whenever she would slam into things, they would yell at her to quit being stupid, but these disabilities weren’t her fault. 

Well, Shinsou didn’t even like using the word “disabilities” to describe the parts of her that were a little different. Yes, she was on the autism spectrum in the moderate range, had limited speech, and was blind on the sides of her eyes (she could only see clearly if she stared straight ahead), but she had an incredible intuition and sense of empathy. 

To put it simply, she was everything to Shinsou, and he couldn’t imagine a life without her. 

With iris-colored hair tinted with periwinkle, it fell in natural ringlets around her ivory face. Her aquamarine eyes had a milky film over them, and she was missing a front tooth from it growing in late. She was dainty but rambunctious; quiet but expressive. 

When she would speak, she would usually stutter or trail off or get caught in a loop, but Shinsou was trying his best to teach her how to keep her mouth from falling behind her brain. Aside from that though, she was polite and hilarious and his sentient ball of sunshine, which made him regret attempting to kill himself. 

At that moment, he had been so overwhelmed that he had completely forgotten about her, and he felt horribly guilty for it now. She deserved a comfortable, safe household with a loving family and toys and new clothes and school and a social life. 

With another sigh, he carded his fingers through her curly hair. He had only attempted to end his life a few weeks ago, so he was still being monitored and had his anti-depressant prescription remade. The crushing pressure on his shoulders wasn’t any lighter than before, but he had to live for her, and for the pups resting in his belly. 

It’s just…it was so goddamn hard to accept his offspring when they all were the results of him being claimed without his consent. 

In fact, he didn’t even know who the father of the twins was; they were just some Alpha friend of Dad’s who came over, found Shinsou in the throes of Heat, and took him as theirs. He hasn’t seen the person since, but the bond-mark on his scent gland which was situated in the crook of his neck was noticeable. 

The one Dad gave him four years prior was there too, but faded. Whenever Shinsou touched the area, it sickened him to the point of bile rising in his throat. Screwing his tired eyes shut, he urged the terror and anxiousness away and slowly let his muscles relax, only for a tiny palm to press against his cheek. 

“W-why is D-D-Daddy sad?”, she mumbled, eyes cracking open and squinting to try and focus her poor vision on his face. Shinsou winced; why did she have to have such a spot-on intuition? Sighing, he promised her that everything was fine, but Ayame didn’t seem convinced. 

Sucking in a breath, she asked, “Can I-I-I to…” She trailed off and huffed in frustration, but with encouragement, she was able to regain her train of thought and continue. “Can I t-touch them?”, she questioned, gesturing to his stomach, and Shinsou stiffened. He hadn’t told her he was pregnant, so she must have figured it out by his scent, but he didn’t really mind. 

“Yeah. Just put your hand right here”, he instructed, guiding her palm to the middle of his belly, right where the twins were resting. Ayame sat there in her flowery pajamas, hugging Mr. Sprinkles with her other arm as she just kept her hand there. Suddenly, she announced, “It’s g-gonna be a boy and a girl.” 

Shinsou tilted his head, asking her why she thought so. His infant shrugged in return, and pulled her hand away to go back to sleep. She curled up beside him and rested her head in his lap, comforted by his sugary scent and overall presence. He stroked her hair in a repetitive manner, smiling gently with an aura of bittersweetness. 

Someday, he would show her the universe. 

....

"Ngh, right there...ah, 'Zashi..." 

Goddamn, was Yamada talented with his tongue. 

Aizawa spread his legs further apart to give his husband more access, fingers twisting in the sheets underneath him. Being fucked was nice, but nothing could match up to Yamada eating him out until he screamed. But, Aizawa rarely allowed himself to scream, and this wasn’t an exception. With a hand clasped over his mouth, he moaned quietly as his Alpha worked his magic, licking the inside of his fluttering walls and indulging in the sweet taste of slick. 

He used his other hand to tangle his fingers into Yamada’s golden locks, tugging him forward and into that wonderful heat. Yamada took hold of Aizawa’s cock and stroked it as he continued to pleasure his clit, and the overstimulation resulted in Aizawa throwing his head back and curling his toes as he orgasmed from both areas at once. Gasping from the doubled pleasure, he screwed his eyes shut and panted heavily while he came down from his high. 

Yamada finished himself off and crawled on top of his Omega, capturing his silky lips in a passionate kiss. No Omega enjoyed being in Heat, but Aizawa was fortunate enough to have a husband who was skilled in every aspect of sexual activities. Luckily, Aizawa’s Heats only lasted about three days so he was almost done, but in the meantime, they were making the most of it. 

That is, until Aizawa’s phone started vibrating on the nightstand while his nipples were being sucked. Of course he was getting a call at midnight on a Sunday while getting off, and he groaned in annoyance as he clumsily reached for it. “Just…just call back later…”, Yamada muttered as he licked his lover’s chest and rubbed his cock against the other’s clit, but Aizawa forced him to halt his actions when he saw who was calling him. 

He showed the caller ID to Yamada before answering, sitting up to get himself in order. Clearing his throat so he wouldn’t sound like he had just been fucked stupid, he asked, “What is it? You do realize it’s midnight, right?” “Eraser, I’ve got something to tell you. It’s important”, Fukukado replied, and her serious tone immediately made him tense up. 

Yamada noticed and mouthed, “What’s wrong?”, but Aizawa held up a finger, telling her to continue. Fukukado’s breath hitched, but she regained her composure and informed him, “There’s nothing I can do for Shinsou. I’m sorry.” “…What? You talked to him three weeks ago; why can’t you help him now?”, he inquired, shoulders turning rigid at her explanation: 

“The case was dropped. I tried to reason with my bosses, but they weren’t having it. Because the foster system is controlled by the Public Safety Commission, it has to go by the same laws that the rest of us do. Omegas can’t file for a divorce, they can’t own certain amounts of property, etc. Because Shinsou’s an Omega, the Public Safety Commission considered his claims as him ‘over-exaggerating’, saying that he was giving U.A. a bad rep in the process. I did everything I could, but…I can’t help him now.” 

“That’s bullshit! Don’t they have a rule in place for Hero-in-training protection?”, Aizawa questioned, and the fellow Hero told him, “Not for Omegas. You know this better than I do since you’re one, but Omegas are still treated like crap. It doesn’t matter to them if he’s being assaulted or abused; they don’t give a shit about Omega confidentiality and protection. The PSC is mostly run by asshole Alphas, so it’s unlikely you’ll be able to convince them to help him legally. So, I’m warning you that because of Shinsou’s suicide attempt causing so much uproar and now this, he may…he may be expelled.” 

Aizawa’s hands began to tremble. The absolute worst part about this was that he had suspected that Shinsou would be kicked out, but had done everything in his power to prevent it. He supposed this just goes to show that in the end, Heroes are truly the scum of the Earth. 

....

"Please have a seat." 

Shinsou really did not want to do whatever the fuck this was today. 

His back was killing him, his belly had doubled in size since a few weeks ago, and he may or may not have pissed himself a little when he woke up and sneezed. To put it simply, he felt like shit on this particular morning, and could tell by Aizawa’s bothered expression that this meeting wasn’t the usual internship discussion or question about his background. 

Leaning back in the cushioned chair, he could smell the rancid stench of guilt from the three adults standing before him, and automatically assumed the worst. Was he getting in trouble for admitting all that shit about his family? No, that didn’t make sense; he told Ms. Joke those details three weeks ago, so what the hell was this? 

Principal Nezu sighed, ears twitching. He was frowning; a rarity for someone as optimistic as him. Recovery Girl didn’t look any better, and neither did his mentor. Shinsou swallowed audibly, palms turning sweaty as he waited. 

After what felt like centuries, Nezu spoke. “Shinsou Hitoshi, you’re an amazing student, so I hate having to tell you this, but…the Public Safety Commission has decided that for your own safety…” He trailed off, sighed again, and stated, “You’re expelled.” 

Shinsou stared at him blankly. No emotion, no outburst; just…stared at him, in complete and utter shock. 

RG placed a hand on his shoulder, and said sympathetically, “Please try to understand. You’re very talented and we want to keep you here, but because of your situation, we’ve been ordered to let you go. You can do U.A.’s online schooling or go somewhere else, but internships and training won’t be available anymore. I’m…I’m so, so sorry, sweetie.” 

“I…I don’t understand. You’re expelling me because of what I told Ms. Joke? I thought that…she told me to tell her about the shit I’ve been through. She said you guys w-would do something about it…did you lie to me?” 

Shinsou being genuinely upset was uncommon, but the cracks in his voice and the retched scent of devastation made it perfectly evident that he was using all of his willpower to not burst into tears. 

“Of course not. We want to help you; each student’s safety is our top priority, but there is only so much control we have before the Public Safety Commission has to take over. Ms. Joke will continue to be your social worker and you can still come to Recovery Girl for your appointments, but you will have to move out of the dorms”, Nezu explained, and it looked like it was physically paining him to say those words. 

Shinsou turned to Aizawa, but his teacher avoided eye contact, face partially obscured by his capture scarf. Throat tightening and fists clenching, the young Omega sucked in a breath and stood up. 

“I don’t need a social worker, and I don’t need Recovery Girl. I gave birth to my daughter on the fucking kitchen floor while my Mom beat the shit out of me. I’ve been through WAY worse than whatever sick bullshit this is, but know that you guys aren’t fucking Heroes! When a kid needs you most, you expel them?! What the fuck is wrong with you assholes?!” 

Nezu and RG didn’t respond, and Shinsou stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. Aizawa hurried after him, but when he called Shinsou’s name, the younger Omega whipped around and screamed, “No! Don’t act like you give a shit! If you did, you wouldn’t have let this happen! Instead, you just stood there like a fucking coward!” 

“Shinsou, I’m going to keep trying to help you. This wasn’t in my control, but I’m not leaving your side just because you can’t go here. I’ll keep being your mentor; this can’t change that”, the black-haired man started, but Shinsou shook his head, indigo eyes finally overflowing. 

“Fuck off! Since I was a pup, I’ve been saving up to go here! When I got in, my parents said that I’d fail; that I’d be the retarded dumbass amongst everyone! And then I got into the Hero Course, and I thought I’d make it…I-I…I never should’ve trusted you.” 

He wiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands, the occasional sob escaping him. Aizawa felt a chord in him snap as he opened his mouth to speak again, but Shinsou cut him off. “I d-don’t need you! I can do this on my own; I don’t need your fucking pity. Just…why did you let me trust you? It wouldn’t hurt nearly as much if you hadn’t let me trust you. It’s…I just…” 

The seventeen-year-old inhaled shakily, sniffled, and choked out, “If you EVER try to come near me or talk to me again, I’ll fucking kill you.” 

Shinsou Hitoshi left, and Aizawa Shouta, for the first time since he was reunited with Shirakumo, cried. 

Here’s a life lesson: it’s always the ones you love the most who break your heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked Ayame. She's a sweetheart.


	5. Last Friday Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And just when Shinsou thought his life couldn't possibly get any worse, he accidentally kills someone.   
> Figures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Child abuse, attempted assault, and accidental murder. If you're sensitive to these, please do not read. 
> 
> So, I'm stuck inside for the next couple weeks because of the virus, and it sucks, but at least it'll give me more time to write. Stay safe, everyone. 
> 
> Enjoy (the story I mean).

This investigation was half-assed and uncoordinated, and when a system that governs an entire country fails to put in the time and effort, a single person must take matters into their own hands. 

Aizawa wasn’t experienced in this. He didn’t have a degree in criminal forensics or interrogation, but he knew a thing or two about how to kickstart a proper investigation. He always had a knack for cracking cases since he was a teenager, so he was now dedicating all of his spare time and energy to bringing his former apprentice justice. 

Of course, that was quite difficult when Shinsou unceremoniously cut ties with him and his parents refused to speak, but Aizawa was gradually discovering evidence proving that this was a dire case. 

An extremely dire case. 

According to Yamada, a Friday in Winter was meant to be spent lounging on the couch with hot drinks and cheesy rom-coms, but Aizawa couldn’t give less of a shit about relaxation. Yamada could enjoy himself all he wanted, but Aizawa was getting to the bottom of this, no matter how much free time it took away. 

Yamada observed from the kitchen as his mate shuffled through papers and scribbled down contacts, a mug of coffee in-hand. This wasn’t particularly healthy, how obsessed with this Aizawa was, but it was understandable. After the shit-show that was Shirakumo’s disappearance, the Omega being so dedicated to this wasn’t surprising, but Yamada was worried. For the past two weeks, his husband has barely been sleeping or eating, instead researching until he fell asleep at the table. 

“Babe, I understand that this means a lot to you, but you need to take a break. Between teaching, Hero work, and this, you’ve given yourself no free time. And don’t say that last nights bath was relaxing, because you were out in literally three minutes”, the vocal Hero complained, recalling how Aizawa dropped into the bubble bath with his husband, washed himself, and left without so much as a kiss to return to his work. 

The obsidian-haired man rubbed his bloodshot eyes, and sighed, “We’ve been over this, ‘Zashi. It’s obvious that Shinsou’s been through horrible abuse; he said so himself that his parents are addicts, and implied that his pups were conceived through…through rape. He’s my apprentice; I’m not letting him stay in that house because the Public Safety Commission thought he was a nuisance.” 

When Yamada began to object, Aizawa rudely interrupted him, hackles raised. “No. You aren’t making me quit this. He deserves to go to U.A., and he deserves better than what he’s stuck with. Here, look at this.” He handed a paper to Yamada, and the blonde scanned over it while his partner explained, “I contacted all of his teachers from his elementary school and Nabu Middle School. They all said that he regularly came in with bruises, some of which were around his neck and wrists. And then, there’s this.” 

He passed another sheet to Yamada, and continued with, “That’s a report of all the times a social worker has visited his house after he would call the police. They wrote down that there were multiple signs of abuse, from starving him to beating him with a bat, and they never reported it to the police. Don’t you think that’s suspicious?” 

Yamada didn’t know what to say. For once in his life, he was utterly speechless. Reading these reports, he came to the conclusion that Aizawa was right; these were detailed descriptions of sickening abuse that Shinsou had suffered through as a pup, and no action was taken. It even detailed how he was bedridden for days because of extreme blood loss from birthing his first pup at thirteen on the kitchen floor while his mother repeatedly kicked him in the head, but the police were never informed about it. 

“It took days to get those documents, but one of the social workers had an assistant who sent them to me in secret. After they didn’t help him, Shinsou must’ve thought no one would, so he didn’t tell Ms. Joke everything”, Aizawa muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. This whole case was a disaster so far, and if he showed this to the PSC, there was a chance that they would disregard this. 

“Didn’t he mention a sister?”, Yamada questioned. Aizawa nodded. “Yeah, she killed herself at fourteen. Shinsou was eleven at the time. Apparently, she was the main punching bag, but after she passed, Shinsou had to take her place. It’s disgusting.” 

As they kept talking, Aizawa couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Something terrible was about to take place. He didn’t know what exactly, but there was one intrusive thought that shook him to the core: someone was going to die tonight. 

....

Pills were disguised as candies, and breasts resembled lollipops. 

Maybe it was a sick trick of the light, but with each glance, Shinsou saw glassy eyes and swaying hips and glistening biceps and exposed breasts being consumed by every color on the spectrum, spiraling and making him feel vaguely ill. 

Each inhale filled his nose with the sickening mixture of marijuana, alcohol, and sex, which was not a pleasant combination. Swallowing roughly, he yanked his hand out of Mom’s cold grip and swerved through crowds, flinching as drunken guests and bickering couples shoved or slammed into him. He kept a protective arm over his swollen belly as he was pushed about, trying to get to his room. 

The air was suffocating, and he couldn’t figure out if he was lightheaded because of the tight space, or if someone drugged his water bottle. 

He would confess that despite his lineage, he was quite innocent, and aside from trying a cigarette when he was nine from Dad peer pressuring him, he had never smoked a joint, chugged vodka, or rubbed someone down in his life (and he definitely wouldn’t when sixteen-weeks pregnant). He supposed that that made him appear ignorant or naïve here, but there were worse things to worry about. 

Dimmed lights beamed across the floor, illuminating barely-dressed bodies. People chanted words of encouragement in the hall outside his front door as someone poured a river of whiskey down their throat. Another couple kissed obscenely in the hallway Shinsou was trying to get to, hands obscured in clothing. Family friends collapsed in the bathroom together, high off their asses and waiting for that sweet, sweet rush of euphoria. 

The drop from it would be like a bomb exploding, and he didn’t want to stay to witness any of it. 

Tripping over a chair leg, he fell forward and face-planted on someone. Struggling to regain his balance, he gripped the armchair, the abused leather bending beneath his fingers. The man in front of him had a slightly-startled expression on his face, cheekbones pronounced and skin of an olive complexion. 

Not being able to recognize him with the poor lighting, Shinsou mumbled an apology and stumbled down the darkened hallway. Craning his head to watch the teenager go, the mystery man then shifted his attention to the fellow Alpha dropping down beside him. 

“What were ya’ lookin’ at?”, Shinsou Jomei asked, voice vaguely slurred, and the other frowned. “Nothing important”, he brushed it off, carding a clawed hand through his hair. But, Jomei just giggled and slurred, “Ain’t he pretty? I get why ya’ fucked him. Ya’ can go da’ it again if ya’ want.” 

Meanwhile, Shinsou continued his way to his bedroom, focused on getting to his daughter. Hopefully, being alone with her would calm him done; he was just praying that she wasn’t too frightened by the loud noises and strangers. He opened the door and slipped inside, before being the victim of a coughing fit. Throat dry and tongue like sandpaper, he considered going back out to search for water, but it was obvious that there was none available in the nightmare behind him. 

So, he hurried to the bed when he saw Ayame shaking beneath the covers, clearly freaked out by her senses going on overdrive. Carefully tugging the blanket from her head, Shinsou hushed her gently and pulled her into his protective embrace, and she hummed in a repetitive manner as she cried. Friday nights were always a shit-show in this godforsaken household, and all of the neighbors being alcoholics, addicts, and criminals did anything but straighten out his wayward parents. 

He needed to get her out of here before some creep barges in, but Mom would likely kill him for leaving her side if she found him. She and Dad were monsters when they were drunk off their asses, and that wasn’t an exaggeration. Goddamnit, why was everything going down the drain all at once? At least he could have found a way to retrieve Ayame and then return to U.A.; now, he was alone. 

Again. 

Suddenly, an Alpha woman screamed as she and another drunk got into a fight, and Shinsou whispered, “Shh, it’s okay. We’re gonna get out of here, I promise. Just breathe, baby girl.” He forced Ayame to put her coat and shoes on before picking her up, but when he opened the door, he was met with the man he had fallen on earlier. 

“Hey, sweet-cheeks. Where do you think you’re going?”, the stranger questioned, and Shinsou growled, “Move over, asshole. I’m trying to get my daughter out of here.” 

As much as he wanted to, he didn’t use his Quirk, because there was a strict rule that his parents had put in place: no use of his Quirk no matter the circumstances, and if he used it, he would have his teeth kicked in. The man gave Ayame a once-over and chuckled, “Isn’t that your Dad’s kid? Heh, incest must’ve made her blind and dumb, huh? Hopefully mine’ll turn out better.”

Shinsou’s eyes widened. 

No. 

No, it can’t be him. 

But…he was getting a tingling sensation in his scent gland, as if it were a signal informing him that this stranger was…fuck. 

“Move over. Now”, Shinsou snarled, baring his teeth and releasing a threatening pheromone; a warning to back off, or things would turn ugly. Of course, the Alpha didn’t budge, and instead leaned forward, sniffing greedily at the seventeen-year-old’s scent gland. Motherfucker, he smelled delicious, like sugar and peppermint and milk and soon-to-be-born pups. 

“I know how your Quirk works, doll. It isn’t gonna work on me, so how about you set your daughter down and we can get…nasty”, the man hissed, grinning widely to reveal shark-like fangs even sharper than Kirishima’s. With his tattooed arms, stubble, and talon-like claws, Shinsou secretly felt intimidated, but stood his ground. 

All of a sudden, said claws sliced across his face, splitting the skin and causing him to stumble back. The Alpha kicked the door closed and locked it, before stepping forward and snatching up Shinsou’s shirt collar, making him drop Ayame in the process. The little girl scrambled to the corner and shrieked as the stranger threatened, “Fight back, and she’ll get her top knocked off, got it?” 

The next ten minutes were, without a doubt, a total, utter shit-show. 

Hearing a grown man scream like a damsel in distress over having his nose torn clean off isn’t something you come by everyday, but all the guests were witnessing him writhe in the doorway as blood gushed from between his fingers, his skull visible. 

“That fucking cunt bit me!”, he roared, and while he searched for Shinsou, said teenager was already racing down the street, sporting a black eye and busted lip as he ran like his life depended on it. Which, in this case, it did. 

But, it didn’t take long before he was slowing down, both from carrying Ayame and from the extra weight in his stomach. Panting heavily and teeth stained red, he gagged at the taste of that creep’s blood. It was disgusting, like piss and rotten meat instead of copper. 

Scanning his surroundings, he cursed loudly. Where the hell were Heroes when he needed them? Then, he caught a whiff of that Alpha’s scent, and gasped when he heard, “Get back here, you fucking whore!” 

Ignoring his aching back and shortness of breath, Shinsou started running again, hoping excessively that a car would drive by on this deserted road and help him escape. Fuck, he could hear the heavy footsteps of his second assaulter coming closer at a rapid pace. 

Ayame kept her tiny arms wrapped around Shinsou’s neck, milky eyes tearful as she blearily made out the tattooed man charging towards them. “D-D-Daddy…Daddy…D-Daddy, I don’t wanna-wanna die!”, she cried into his ear, and Shinsou promised, “That isn’t gonna happen! I’ll protect you, I promise. Just don’t let go, understand?” 

And then, he fell. 

He didn’t know what he tripped on, but both were sent crashing to the concrete, his palms scraping against it and being embedded with pieces of gravel. He hissed in pain and gasped when a sharp ache shot through the side of his belly, and he came to the horrid conclusion that he had landed on his midsection. 

Panic surging through him, he glanced back just as his assaulter pounced. He instinctively closed his eyes and screamed a command. Something warm and liquid-like splattered across his face. 

Ever-so-slowly, he cracked open his eyes, and was met with a stopped vehicle mere inches from him, the front covered in entrails and the corpse of his chaser. The driver was knocked out from either shock or the impact, and Shinsou exhaled shakily. 

Sweating and exhausted, he yanked Ayame to him and held her defensively, hackles raised and nerves beyond shot. His thoughts were scrambled and racing a million miles a minute, but he eventually realized that he must have ordered that guy to step in front of the car. 

Shinsou clapped a hand over his mouth. 

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, Shinsou killed someone. I wonder what will happen next.   
> Will he be arrested? Will he become a killer? Or will Eraserhead find out and tell him he had a good reason to do it and give him a dad hug?   
> I guess we'll see, but you can tell me what you thought below!


	6. Paranoia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the public begins to suspect that Shinsou is the culprit of an Alpha's murder, he has a painful nightmare that reminds him that he isn't living for himself anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Child abuse, suicide attempt, underage pregnancy, and suicidal thoughts. If you are sensitive to any of these, please do not read! Please, please heed the warnings! 
> 
> Most of this chapter is about a nightmare Shinsou is having about his worst memories, so I'm telling you all that to avoid confusion. The scene with Kirishima and the last scene with Shinsou and his daughter playing are not flashbacks, but the rest are. 
> 
> Enjoy.

“Three nights prior in the town of Kasukabe in the Saitama Prefecture, an Alpha was killed in what police are now suspecting was foul play. Despite the victim, thirty-two-year-old Inoguchi Gonnohyoe, supposedly stepping in front of a car and getting hit, resulting in the death of the driver as well, surveillance footage shows him chasing an unidentified person. According to the footage, it is possible that this mystery person played a part in Inoguchi’s death. An investigation to…” 

Rumors are like weapons; even if they are more fiction than facts, they can damage a person’s reputation and harm their psyche. It spreads like wildfire or some incurable disease, multiplying and terraforming from a simple twisted truth into a monstrous lie. The media wasn’t helping in this case, instead giving younger generations a platform to voice their exaggerated stories and false claims. 

“That Shinsou kid lives in Kasukabe, right? I bet he did it.” 

“From what I saw at the Sports Festival last year, it looked like a pretty villainous Quirk.” 

“Oh, remember that purple-haired boy from U.A? I heard he lives near the scene of the crime.” 

“I feel so sorry for his parents.” 

“It’s no wonder he got expelled! It’s obvious that he did it!” 

“He should’ve just killed himself.” 

“I live near Kasukabe. What if he tries to hurt me or my pups?” 

“Heh, he totally did it. He looked like a total psycho on TV.” 

“How did U.A. not know they were housing a criminal?” 

“If he died, it would save us all some trouble. No more paranoia, right?” 

Kirishima turned down the volume on the television and mumbled, “Jeez, it’s one problem after another these days.” Kaminari was seated beside him, tapping away on his phone as he said absentmindedly, “Doesn’t Shinsou live in Kasukabe?” His companion frowned; Kaminari wasn’t suspecting that he would do such a thing, was he? Sure, Shinsou was somewhat unsettling and a little strange, but he wasn’t a murderer. 

“What, you think he caused some sort of hit-and-run? I don’t think he’d do something like that”, Kirishima debated, slumping back into the couch cushions while Kaminari shrugged in response, eyes still glued to his electronic. He had been uncharacteristically quiet and detached the past six weeks, but that was understandable given that the boy he was head-over-heels for was practically banished from school for rather ridiculous reasons. 

Sighing, Kirishima questioned, “Have you talked to him at all?” The blonde shook his head solemnly. “I tried calling and texting him a few times, but he won’t answer. Ashido’s tried to, but hasn’t gotten a response. I heard he and Aizawa Sensei got into a fight when he was expelled, so maybe he’s still mad”, he considered. Kirishima bit the inside of his cheek. 

The past year had been overflowing with catastrophes, with the main cataclysm being the Meta War. Over forty-nine miles of villages and forests from Jaku to Gunga were obliterated, countless civilians lost their lives, Pro-Heroes were killed, and Shigaraki Tomura still managed to escape with Dabi and Toga Himiko. 

Despite them shutting down the biggest threat, the sheer number of sacrifices were too great to be celebrated. Kirishima had never gone to a funeral beforehand, so going to four in a span of two weeks had been tasking on his psyche. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Ashido entering the commons, pastel-pink hair still soaked from a shower. Walking to her friends, she turned to the television and shouted, “I heard about that! Do you think Shinsou was there?” Kirishima pinched the bridge of his nose, exclaiming, “Have you been listening to those stupid rumors? He’s not the only person who lives in Kasukabe!” 

“Yeah, but think about it: Shinsou’s been through some tough crap lately. First, he gets pregnant and attempts suicide, and then he gets expelled when he was promised help. A person can only handle one bad situation after another for so long. Maybe this Inoguchi guy hurt him and he just…snapped”, Kaminari muttered, setting his phone aside to fiddle with his Quirk, transferring tiny shockwaves through his fingertips and watching them spark. 

Ashido bit her lip and slumped her shoulders, distress and worry emitting from her. “So…do you think he used his Quirk to…”, she trailed off, cleared her throat, and said in a hushed tone, “…to order this guy to step in front of the car?” Kirishima bared his teeth and snarled, “Enough! Shinsou wouldn’t do this; he’s not that kind of person! We’re his friends and you guys are acting like he’s a Villain! Quit listening to rumors!” 

His classmates averted their gazes and displayed their necks in submission, mumbling their apologies. These rumors were creating mass hysteria, and if two of his closest friends were suspicious of Shinsou, who knows how many others were too. 

....

"Hisa?" 

Ten-and-a-half years and she still wasn’t accustomed to that title. She was used to being called “dumbass”, “whore”, and “worthless” on a daily basis, but her actual birth-name made her stiffen at the sound of it. Not in a negative way, per say; just…it was strange. 

“Yeah?”, the periwinkle-haired girl asked, looking up from her notebook. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore was white noise at this point, but not something she was trying to tune out intentionally. As sappy as it seemed, she just preferred listening to her little brother laugh for once and gasp as the tide chased him down. 

Standing up, Hitoshi’s petite silhouette captured the rays of sunshine perfectly, highlighting parts of his limbs while shadowing others. Lavender and indigo hair swaying in the wind that tasted of salt and sea spray, Hitoshi bit his lip, and then walked away from his half-forged sandcastle to plop beside her. Leaning over her arm, he peered at the lyrics, the kanji amazingly perfect. 

“I…I’m gonna present soon, right?”, he questioned, tilting his head up to look at her. Arching an eyebrow, his sister responded with, “Well, you probably won’t until you’re eleven or twelve. Why do you ask?” The almost-eleven-year-old hesitated momentarily, but found that spark of confidence to then tell her, “Even if I end up being an Omega, I don’t want pups.” 

Hisa frowned, curious as to why her sibling was telling her this. She presented as a Beta, so she was guessing he would too, but who knows. “You’re only ten, ‘Toshi. You don’t have to think about that crap yet”, Hisa assured him, but Hitoshi countered that with, “I know, but I don’t want any. Maybe I’ll fall in love, but I don’t want kids. Does that make you sad?” The thirteen-year-old blinked, surprised by his question, but that surprise morphed into amusement. 

Placing a warm hand on the top of his head, she told him, “Of course not. You can do whatever the hell you want, and I’ll back you up. If you don’t want pups, you don’t have to have them. All that matters to me is that you’re happy.” Hitoshi smiled softly. 

If he could, he would make time go to a standstill, just so he could have this one absolutely perfect day. 

But life isn't that kind, is it? 

....

"Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord, my soul to keep. If I shall die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take." 

Religion wasn’t part of his daily agenda. 

In fact, it never had been; the idea of worshipping some self-consumed, godly figure disgusted him. And yet, like his sister, he prayed in the absolute worst of times, and this was, by far, an all-time low that required that. So, he repeated that prayer continuously as he acted on autopilot, attempting to rescue his sibling. 

Shoving two fingers down Hisa’s throat, Hitoshi frantically tried to trigger her gag reflex as partygoers walked right past them, too distracted by offerings of drugs and white powder to notice that a fourteen-year-old girl was overdosing in a dirty bathroom.

Mom was passed out in the corner with cigarette burns on her arms, but Hitoshi ignored her. Empty pill bottles and pills of different colors were scattered on the tile, and it was obvious that Hisa had devoured a majority of them. 

“Come on, Hisa! Throw up already!”, Hitoshi exclaimed, digging his fingers in further, and finally, the Beta’s eyelids fluttered. She gagged, and Hitoshi yanked his digits out just as his sister vomited violently, a concoction of bile, blood, and a multitude of pills splattering on the floor. There were more pills in the mix than the newly-presented Omega could count, and he held Hisa against him to comfort her as she continued to vomit. 

“Hisa, can you hear me? Please tell me you’re okay!”, Hitoshi begged, shaking the other’s shoulders lightly. Hisa coughed and hyperventilated as her heart hammered in her chest, her skin pale as a sheet and hair damp from sweat. Desperately, she clung to her brother, trembling profusely, distress overflowing from her and making her smell like spoiled milk. 

Hitoshi wrapped his arms around her neck, hugging her tightly and fearfully, blinking back tears. His heart clenched and his breathing hitched as he refused to let Hisa go, because he couldn’t even fathom something like this before, but now, it was all too real. 

Hisa was rapidly losing awareness of her surroundings from the exhaustion, and she shakily leaned into Hitoshi’s smaller build, attracted to the radiating heat. “Hisa, stay with me. Don’t fall asleep, please”, Hitoshi pleaded sternly, stroking her hair to keep her grounded. Hisa’s breathing was labored, but she managed to choke out, “Can’t keep…keep doing this. I-I’m tired…” Hitoshi swallowed roughly and cradled his sister, heart swelling with panic. 

“W-why did you help me?”, she stuttered, glancing to him with hollow, aquamarine eyes. Hitoshi scoffed and shouted, “Because you weren’t waking up! Why did you do that?!” “Because I don’t wanna do THIS anymore! The next time I try, don’t fucking ruin it by helping me!”, Hisa screamed, jerking out of his hold and shoving him. 

The eleven-year-old was utterly shellshocked by this behavior. She never treated him like that, with cruelty and hostility. Reluctantly, he scrambled out of the bathroom as she hunched over and cried into her hands, sobbing, “I don’t wanna live…I don’t wanna live!” 

It echoed in his ears. 

"I don't wanna live!" 

It played on repeat. 

"I don't wanna live!" 

Like a broke cassette tape. 

"I don't wanna live..." 

....

Rain thrummed against the windowpane. 

There were darkened, glassy skies overhead. 

Hitoshi fell as soon as his feet touched the floor, his leg muscles tightening and giving out on him. Mom caught him and Hitoshi held onto her arms, limping heavily to the bathroom. It was 4:04 in the morning, and Nozomi Shinsou hadn’t slept a wink. Her son had been writhing in agony and vomiting for hours, with him regaining a fever as well. His body was still in a slight state of shock from the birth, and the waves of fatigue from blood loss were returning. 

Nozomi usually would have made him do this himself; hell, she spent the duration of his labor bashing his head in. But, when she saw his little pup between his bloody thighs, squirming and drenched in fluids while still connected by the umbilical cord, she decided to show just a sliver of empathy and aid him through this. 

She was, by no means, a good person, but she had her now-deceased daughter at a young age, so she somewhat understood his suffering. The fellow Omega was hoping a hot bath would ease the soreness in Hitoshi’s swollen lower belly. The thirteen-year-old was shaking, each step like running a marathon for him. His eyes were hollow, and his breathing was shallow. 

Carefully sitting Hitoshi on the tile floor, Nozomi filled the tub, keeping a watchful eye on the other. Hitoshi whimpered and instinctively massaged his midsection while leaning his head against the wall, his temples bruised from the impact of his mother’s kicks. He stared at the floor as if he were inebriated. She winced. 

Eventually, the tub was filled, steam rising lazily from it. Nozomi took Hitoshi’s clothes off and lowered him into the bath, and the smaller Omega hissed as his abused lower regions stung. Soaking into the water, he screwed his eyes shut and allowed his parent to wash his hair, ridding it of whatever elements had collected in the matted locks. 

“Ya’ need a haircut”, Nozomi remarked, grabbing a comb and being uncharacteristically gentle while she untangled the knots. Hitoshi hummed in response, his back killing him whenever he tried to change his position. Frustration filling him, he stiffened in horror when a sob escaped him, followed by another. 

“Why are ya’ cryin’?”, Nozomi asked, and her pup just cried. Rolling her eyes, she leaned Hitoshi’s head against her torso, rocking him back-and-forth to attempt to comfort him. “This is so m-much harder than I-I thought i-it w-w-would be.” Nozomi scowled and sighed, “What, ya’ thought it would be easy? Getting your pussy shredded hurts like a bitch.” 

Hitoshi shook his head and elaborated, “I d-don’t get why it’s s-so hard to be h-happy. I didn’t w-want pups!” Despite her abusive actions, he buried his face in her torso, his tears soaking her shirt. With how dismayed he was, him clutching to her for comfort wasn’t a shocker, but she wasn’t particularly talented in this. 

Tracing her hot-pink, acrylic nails lightly on his shoulder-blades, Nozomi exhaled slowly, and told him, “Lots of people that don’t want pups end up gettin’ stuck with some. I didn’t plan for ya’ or your sister, but here I am with your stupid ass. Hitoshi…I know I’m not a good motha’, but I can’t be a good one. I guess I just…fucked the parenting thing up. So, I want ya’ ta’ treat your girl betta’ than I treated ya’ and Hisa.” 

Hitoshi scoffed, looking up at her with tearful eyes. “B-but why can’t y-you just be nice now?”, he inquired, heartbreak evident in his expression. Nozomi grimaced and turned away, but kept her hold on him. 

“…Cause I hate ya’, and I hated your sister. And I hate your pup, so protect her. Ya’ ruined me, Hitoshi; if I hadn’t had ya’ and Hisa, I could’ve done whateva’ the fuck I wanted. But here I am...and you’re still here.” 

She let him go, and he stared at her, the impact of her words weighing on his shoulders. Nozomi shot him a glare before exiting the bathroom momentarily, only to return with a small bundle in her arms. The tattooed woman pulled the blanket off from around the newborn and passed her to Hitoshi, who cautiously took her and adjusted his hold so she was lying in the crook of his arm. 

His pup wailed from being woken up, but calmed down when he released a protective pheromone of peppermint and milk, informing her that she was with someone safe. She latched onto his breast and sucked until milk rushed into her eager mouth, tiny fists curling against his skin. Nozomi observed from the doorway, lips curling with malice. 

“Ya’ gotta give her a name”, she commented, crossing her arms, and Hitoshi furrowed his brow. Thinking long and hard for a moment, he settled on Ayame for the color of her hair, and Nozomi lit a cigarette, nodded, and left the bathroom, leaving him to his devices. 

As Ayame drank from him, the thirteen-year-old stared intensely at the water, imagining dunking her beneath it and holding her down until the air bubbles stopped rising to the surface. 

Until her petite arms stopped flailing. 

Until her milky eyes went dull. 

His lips quivered at the thought, and he started crying again as he held her protectively. 

He never wanted kids, but Ayame was here, and so was he. He was still here, despite how much he didn’t want to be. And she was his daughter, gazing up at him with unfocused, yet familiar eyes. Hitoshi’s tears fell onto her face, and he pleaded: 

"Kill me...kill me...kill me..." 

....

Today was a terrible, fucking stupid day. 

From the second Shinsou awakened, a headache thrummed against his skull and he groaned, rubbing his belly in an up-and-down motion to calm his litter. Of course, it didn’t work, and he noticed that they were moving a bit more than yesterday, tiny hands and feet pressing into his sides and lower stomach. For only being five months in, they were little acrobats already, but he read about how if you’ve been pregnant before, you feel movement sooner the second time around. 

To distract himself from their fluttering movements and the memories of his nightmare, he observed Ayame get ready all on her own, which was a major improvement from a year ago. She combed her curly hair and pulled on her socks, before realizing that Shinsou was awake. “C-can I have miso s-soup please?”, she asked, pouting her bottom lip and giving him pleading eyes. As much as Shinsou didn’t want to move, he fell for that face every goddamn time, and sighed in defeat. 

Nodding bluntly, he pulled himself out of bed. The montage-like nightmare continued to resurface, but he kicked it away, not wanting to get caught up in another downward spiral. 

But, the next half-hour or so went by in a blur for Shinsou, with Dad leaving to buy more cigarettes while Mom stayed in bed, the cracked television consistently switching channels from her knee being on the remote. 

Shinsou stayed in his sweatpants and sweatshirt, with heavy snow swarming about outside. Cars were backed up on the main highways, and civilians struggled to walk through the growing storm to their jobs or classes. The Omega stared out the window on top of the kitchen sink, eyes focused on nothing in-particular. But, a tug on his sweatshirt broke him out of his trance, and he looked down to see Ayame scowling up at him. 

The indigo-haired boy searched through the refrigerator, eventually finding what he was looking for. He was too tired to make miso soup from scratch, so he heated some leftovers up in the microwave instead. Ayame didn’t seem to mind, snatching the bowl from him and nodding her thanks before nearly face-planting from trying to climb onto a chair. 

He sat across from her while she ate gladly, smiling at him through a mouthful of tofu and seaweed. Jesus, she was in an exceptionally good mood today, but he wasn’t complaining. 

He would rather she laugh than cry, after all. 

While she devoured her breakfast, Shinsou turned on the television, playing the news to hear if those dumbass detectives were pretending to have a lead again. So far, he had been in the clear in terms of police visiting his apartment, but that didn’t halt his worries. Damnit, what would happen if he got arrested for murder? He would most likely be charged with accidental homicide, but that would still land him some years behind bars. 

“Y-you were-were dreaming last night”, Ayame pointed out, steering his attention back to her. Grip tightening on his spoon, he said nervously, “Yeah? What do you think it was about?” The four-year-old furrowed her brow thoughtfully, watching Shinsou eerily for a minute or two. “I d-don’t know, but you were cry-crying”, Ayame answered, sipping on her soup at a slower pace now. 

Shinsou’s eye twitched, and he stood up hurriedly, dropped his dish in the sink, and stretched to loosen his muscles, doing everything in his power to avoid discussing the dream. A series of flashbacks disturbing him made his cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

Wracking a hand through his hair, he stiffened when Ayame said, “C-can we go outside? Please?” Her father frowned, glancing out the window again. “I’d prefer if we don’t. You could get sick”, he countered, but Ayame didn’t seem worried, instead exclaiming, “But I wanna-wanna-wanna…play in the fluffy stuff! Please, Daddy? Please?” 

Damn, what was with her today? 

Her begging eventually broke Shinsou, and he crossed his arms, sighing, “Fine. We can go in the parking lot, but do NOT try to take your coat off again.” The young girl smiled widely and scarfed down the rest of her miso soup and rice. She rushed to put her bowl in the sink and proceeded to dash to the coat closet, running into the television stand twice in the process, but she managed to not fracture anything. 

Ayame pulled on her coat and snow-boots while Shinsou placed a hat over her head, strapping it to cover her cheeks. After getting bundled up himself, he took her gloved hand in his and aided her down the staircase, past the foul-smelling lobby, and into the frigid world of white. For early February, this snowfall was intense, and Shinsou led Ayame to the parking lot beside the aged apartment, where the snow went up to her knees. 

Gasping at the chilliness, she stretched her hands out in front of her to navigate, eyes flicking in every direction to try and grasp where she wanted to go. Shinsou stayed close to her side just in case, but Ayame soon transitioned from stumbling inelegantly to leaping into a snow mound with grace. Crashing into it, she laughed as she rolled around, shouting for him to join her. 

Shinsou lowered his gaze. 

He could either let his paranoia reach its peak and knock him off the edge, or he could focus on what brought some joy into his miserable existence. Throwing himself a pity party sounded more appealing since he already felt like total shit, but he couldn’t leave her playing and having the time of her life on her own. 

When Ayame didn’t receive a response, her smile wavered, and the sour odor of disappointment bloomed from her scent gland. And that’s when a snowball smacked into her chest, triggering a chain reaction of her falling on her back and creating an explosion of snow around her petite frame. 

Shinsou quickly mashed up as much snow as he could, shaping them into spheres and launching them at her. He made sure to only aim at her torso (she was extremely sensitive to certain textures touching her face and he didn’t want to risk a meltdown), and his little girl squealed with excitement. 

Grabbing fistfuls of snow, she used her sense of smell to figure out where he was, and toppled into his legs, covering his lower half in snow. Shinsou picked her up and twirled her around, and her carefree laughter almost, almost made him emotional. 

When he first had her, it was traumatic, and he had thought of her birth as a trauma for a shameful amount of time. But, she was the only good thing in his life right now, and as they continued to play, he made a decision: he was going to get her out of here. 

He was going to gift her with a joyful life full of freedom and absent of the fear of what was behind closed doors. 

He wasn’t going to allow her to live like how he has. 

Now, he just had to formulate a plan without his parents catching on. It couldn’t be too difficult, right? 

He would be eating his words with bloodied teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, comments are welcome, and Chapter Seven will be out soon! 
> 
> P.S. I finally watched "Paranoia Agent" and it was WEIRD, but I recommend it.


	7. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I need some opinions on something please lol.

Hello everyone! 

So, I am extremely happy with the popularity of this so far and I appreciate it immensely, but I wanted to get your guys’ opinions on something. 

I don’t know where to go from the last chapter, and I’ll try to have another chapter out soon, but I’m starting to think I should rewrite this. 

Do you guys think I should rewrite this so Shinsou has gotten adopted while at U.A but is having kids, or keep it as it is? It just gets difficult to write so much angst and the rewrite would have more fluff, but I’m having my doubts. I’m proud of this but I’m doubting it, so what do you guys think? 

*This question will be deleted in the next few days, but I’d love to hear your opinions. Thank you so much and have a great night/day.


	8. Together Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An argument between Aizawa and Yamada is cut short when Shinsou calls them. His reason for calling is horrifying, but through the darkness, there's a light at the end of the tunnel.   
> There has to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Blood and attempted murder. If you are sensitive to these, please do not read! 
> 
> Thank you for all of your feedback and suggestions! They helped me immensely and I decided that I will keep writing this one. So, here is Chapter Seven! 
> 
> Enjoy.

"I think I'm gonna call him." 

His consideration was unacknowledged. 

The first half of the drive home had been terribly silent, and Yamada knew by Aizawa’s crossed arms and stoic expression that he was in trouble. The fellow Hero anxiously rubbed his neck as they stopped at a red light, and then bowed his head in shame, not knowing what to say. What he did was inexcusable, although it was out of concern for his mate’s wellbeing, so maybe Aizawa would cut him some slack if he begged enough. 

Eventually, when Yamada continued to not address Aizawa’s words, the charcoal-eyed Omega shattered the silence. “I get that the situation was stressful, but you’re a teacher; your job is to watch over every student. Your actions might have started out with good intentions, but ended with me losing all of my progress. Not just some of it; all of it, which means I have to start over.” 

Yamada bit the inside of his cheek, and then uttered, “I didn’t do it to hurt you. I did it because you’ve been working on it for weeks, but no one in the PSC is interested. Even if you gather up every single piece of evidence, you and I both know that they wouldn’t have bothered looking into it.” 

Aizawa glared at him like he was speaking an imaginary language, eyes darkened and mouth pressed into a tight line. The scariest thing about Aizawa was the fact that he could just glare at Yamada when he was pissed, and the vocal Hero would feel like he was being incinerated at an agonizingly-slow pace. He had every right to be frustrated and furious, but Yamada was convinced that what he did was for the greater good. 

Yes, Shinsou had studied excessively for the U.A. Entrance Exam and written test, and although he had scored poorly on the physical test, he had aced the written exam. Yes, he had worked himself to the bone to qualify for the Hero Course. Yes, he had trained for hours on end with Aizawa to perfect his Quirk and combat abilities. Yes, he was beyond a stellar (former) student, but after the phone call with Tsukauchi last night, Yamada could tell that his husband had been discouraged. 

“You got rid of all the goddamn evidence I found. You convinced me that you were taking it to Kayama to help find more leads, and then you fucking shredded everything. If you think I’m letting you off the hook, you’ve got another thing coming”, Aizawa growled, hackles raised in a threatening gesture. His Alpha winced at the coldhearted treatment and debated with, “Shouta, you weren’t going to win this! Like I said, the PSC doesn’t care. Unless you’ve found a way to arrest every Villain at once, they don’t give a crap about one pup whose being neglected. I’m sorry, but he’s just a blip in the system to them.” 

As they made a turn, a downpour that was predicted earlier commenced, showering against the windshield. Yamada turned on the wipers as Aizawa spat, “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t fight for him! So, if Shinsou’s just a blip, Shirakumo must’ve been too, right?” The blonde tightened his grip on the steering wheel, hissing, “That’s different and you know it. His body was replaced with a fake. There’s nothing similar between his case and Shinsou’s.” 

“Yes, there is! Both were forgotten by the PSC. They admitted that they knew that the body they found of Shirakumo was fake, but they didn’t bother searching for him. They know from Shinsou’s medical records and social worker reports that he was being severely abused and probably still is, and they ignored it.” 

Yamada was about to point out that Aizawa was technically agreeing with him when the younger man snarled through gritted teeth, “That isn’t the issue right now. The issue is that you took my research, went behind my back, and destroyed it. I’ve been doing this since goddamn October, and you ruined it!” 

The spicy stench of accumulating anger filled the vehicle, like hundreds of pepper bottles stuck inside. As much as they loved each other and would never physically harm the other, Yamada knew that if he didn’t come up with an incredible apology in the next two minutes, Aizawa would surely leave him with a scratch across the cheek, if not worse. 

Skyscrapers flashed past them, projecting millions of colors through the heavy rain. They drove over a bridge, where the remains of an apartment building were decaying beside it, with nobody bothering to destroy it or build it into something new. It was like a gravestone, unvisited and forgotten. 

What a depressing thought. 

Aizawa took a deep breath and slumped back in his seat, the rage suddenly trailing out of him. “I get that you were trying to be helpful in your own weird way, but if you do crap like that without my permission, I lose trust in you. You’re going to help me get those leads, whether you want to or not. Understood?” 

His mate opened his mouth to reply when Aizawa’s phone buzzed, interrupting their heated conversation. The Omega checked the caller ID and froze solid; what were the odds that minutes after he suggested calling Shinsou, said boy was calling him? Hitting the green button with more force than necessary, he lifted the phone to his ear and asked hesitantly, “Shinsou?” 

His heartbeat immediately sped up when he heard labored breathing, and he repeated, “Shinsou? Hitoshi, can you hear me?” There was a harsh cough that sounded more like gagging, and then he heard, “A-Aizawa Sensei…shit…I need you p-please, please…” When Yamada pulled up in their driveway, Aizawa motioned for him to turn around, and when his Alpha frowned in confusion, Aizawa put the phone on speaker. 

“Hitoshi, what’s going on? Where are you? Are you hurt?”, he interrogated, anxiety rolling off of him in waves and filling the car with a sour odor that made Yamada scrunch his nose. There was another trembling inhale, and then Shinsou replied, “I…I k-kinda got stabbed…heh, there’s a l-lot of blood, Sensei…it h-h-hurts…” 

“What? Tell me where you are right now. Can you call 911?”, the obsidian-haired man asked, panic increasing tenfold when Shinsou whimpered loudly on the other line, followed by an unidentifiable voice stuttering to him about “too much red.” “A-at home…I’m at h-home…Mom and Dad left and…a-and Ayame…Ayame’s good…she’s good…” 

Aizawa had no fucking idea who “Ayame” was, but he hissed the directions to Kasukabe to Yamada, and they almost crashed into a pole by how fast he turned around. Speeding down the road, Aizawa instructed, “Don’t hang up, okay? Keep talking to me, and it’ll be alright. Where were you stabbed?” 

Shinsou swallowed audibly, mumbled something to this Ayame person, and eventually informed him, “In the c-chest…can’t…move…think i-it hit an a-artery…Sensei, it hurts…want you here…” Aizawa’s skin turned clammy with overwhelming, sickening terror, and he gripped Yamada’s wrist with his empty hand, needing someone to ground him as he desperately attempted to keep Shinsou coherent. 

“I’ll be there soon. We’re not that far, I promise. Just don’t fall asleep, alright? We can talk about anything, but don’t fall asleep”, Aizawa ordered firmly, and Shinsou hummed a weak confirmation. With each minute that trudged by slow as molasses, Shinsou’s replies turned quieter and quieter, until they were nothing more than choked whispers. 

Aizawa’s heart clenched and his stomach twisted, as if a drill was digging into his innards. His blood pounded in his ears and sweat dripped down his forehead beneath his overgrown bangs. Yamada drove with one hand, pressing the other near Aizawa’s face so his Omega could sniff at his scent gland. It relaxed him just slightly, but when they pulled into Shinsou’s neighborhood, the anxiety returned. 

Swinging open the door before they even pulled up to the apartment, Aizawa dashed down the street at record speed, the rain drenching his clothes and plastering his hair to his face. Knowing that Shinsou couldn’t answer the doorbell, he slammed his shoulder into the front door until the lock snapped, and he stumbled into the foul-smelling lobby. 

Hanging up, he hurried up the uneven stairs with all the force of a freight train, ignoring Yamada’s calls. Running to the correct door, Aizawa kicked it down and exclaimed, “Hitoshi!” The apartment resembled a war-zone, alcohol bottles shattered across the floor and the television smashed. There was crimson smeared on the peeling wallpaper, and he followed droplets of the same color to the bathroom. 

Aizawa Shouta has had his fair share of heartbreaks. Losing Shirakumo had been like a sucker-punch to the gut, followed by the death of his mother. The USJ incident had almost left him blind, and the Meta War nearly killed Yamada. And yet, none of those could compare to this. 

There he was, sprawled out with a growing pool of red beneath him. 

Clothes soaking wet with blood, the stab wound was just above where his heart should be, and each breath sounded like skeletons rattling together. It caked his nose and mouth, and a little girl that couldn’t be older than four was sobbing as she pushed a pile of tissues against the injury, moon-like eyes widened owlishly. He was noticeably expecting, belly round and hugged by his clothes, but it would be flat once more if he kept bleeding. 

The stench of blood was overpowering, making Aizawa nauseated as he acted on autopilot, dropping to his knees and shouting Shinsou’s name. Yamada called an ambulance while his mate frantically pushed against the wound to delay the bleeding. 

The teenager protested weakly, sluggishly grabbing Aizawa’s sleeve and murmuring, “S-stop…it…hurts…” “Don’t talk anymore. Just look at me and breathe, okay? An ambulance will be here soon. You’ll be okay”, Aizawa repeated, though he somewhat felt like he was chanting those words for himself. 

Yamada gently pulled the infant away from Shinsou, and she wailed, “NO! D-DADDY’S HURT! LET GO!” She thrashed about, face covered in tears, snot, and blood. Her tantrum lasted for at least five minutes before she lost all her energy, slumping against Yamada and sniffling while rocking her head back-and-forth. 

Shinsou desperately wanted to comfort her, if only to not hear her cry anymore. How could his plan backfire so badly? How could someone’s own father just stab them and leave them for dead? None of this made sense to him, but perhaps that was from blood loss. He would have laughed from how discombobulated he was, but it came out as a wheeze. 

“I…I’m g-gonna lo…lose them…”, he rasped, his blood-drenched palm leaving an imprint on Aizawa’s sleeve. “Shh, no you won’t. We’ll get you to a hospital, and everything will be fine. Just breathe with me, alright? In, out, in, out.” Shinsou followed his instructions, breathing as calmly as he could, skin paling by the minute. Shit, the bleeding wasn’t stopping no matter how much pressure Aizawa applied to the wound. How deeply was he stabbed? 

The next half hour was like an acid trip gone horribly wrong. 

An ambulance arrived and paramedics pushed Aizawa and Yamada aside. They lifted Shinsou onto a stretcher and connected him to an IV and oxygen tank, saying something about a blood transfusion. Ayame was carted away too, shrieking in panic by how many strangers were touching her. When Yamada looked at his mate, all he saw was the teenage Aizawa. 

The Aizawa that was shy, reclusive, and easy to spook. 

The Aizawa that died the second he witnessed debris smash against Shirakumo’s skull, splattering maroon across the pavement. 

The Aizawa Shouta that cried when things became too much, and this was beyond too much. 

Aizawa stood there, frozen and hugging himself, smelling of Shinsou’s blood and rotten meat from his fear. His Alpha hushed him and kissed the crown of his head when Aizawa’s shoulders started trembling. He set a hand over his mouth. 

He was crying. 

....

Everything hurt. 

That wasn’t an over-exaggeration or a nod to the dramatics. It was the raw, 100% honest truth, and he would have screamed if it weren’t for his sore throat, bone-dry mouth, and lack of a voice. Eyelids still weighing fifty pounds, Shinsou’s facial features twisted into an expression of extreme discomfort at the ache that was rolling through his chest. It was like he was being bashed with a baseball bat on one specific area just above his heart, and he frowned in confusion before remembering: he got stabbed. And, by his psychotic, off-the-rails, drug-crazed father no less. 

Why was he not surprised? 

Of course, like any responsible parent, his first priority was figuring out where the fuck Ayame was. The hospital room being empty didn’t help his investigation, so he glanced around until he found an oddly-shaped remote on the bedside table. It only had one button, and he pressed down on the neon-red rectangle, hoping it wouldn’t result in ten nurses rushing into his room with syringes or laughing gas. 

Fortunately, only one arrived, clad in the typical scrubs and carrying a clipboard. With a unicorn-like horn sticking out of his forehead, Shinsou would have snickered, but the action took too much effort. “Ah, you’re awake! How are you feeling?”, the nurse questioned, walking over and adjusting Shinsou’s IV tube. 

The Omega shot him a deadpan expression, and the nurse smiled sympathetically before passing a notepad and sharpie to him. “Your voice will return, but not for a week or so. So, writing is the best communication for now. On a scale of one to ten, can you rate your pain please?” 

Contemplating that for a moment, Shinsou wrote an enormous “8” on the lined page, and his nurse (he saw on the ID tag that his name was Shinohara) frowned with concealed concern. “Hm, I’ll go ask to get you stronger painkillers. Would you like to know what’s going on? I’m guessing you’re a bit confused”, Shinohara offered with a chuckle, and Shinsou nodded. 

Sitting down in the plastic chair near his bed, Shinohara explained, “You’ve been unconscious for about three days. You were in critical condition, so you had a blood transfusion and surgery to reconnect an artery in your chest. Healing will take a bit of time, but with physical therapy, I’m sure you’ll get back on your feet. When it comes to your pups, they were less active for a little while, but they’re healthy and safe. Speaking of which, we had to do an ultrasound to check on them, and we found out their genders if you’d like to know.” 

Shoulders stiffening, Shinsou lowered his gaze to his belly, his moveable hand rubbing a particular spot just underneath his navel where he was feeling the most activity. He nodded again, and Shinohara announced, “You’re having a boy and a girl. Congratulations.” 

Damn, so Ayame’s hunch was correct. 

Indigo eyes widening, Shinsou clumsily scribbled down, “Where’s Ayame?” Shinohara grinned again, offering to retrieve her, and the teenager gladly agreed to that. While the nurse exited to bring her in, Shinsou tried to move his head, but couldn’t manage to tilt it that far to the right. Thick layers of gauze were wrapped around his breast, and he hoped that he would still be able to feed his pups without complications. 

Suddenly, the door swung open, smacking against the wall with a bang. Shinsou would have flinched if it weren’t for the flash of purple barreling into the room, barefoot and adorned in nothing but a hospital gown that revealed her backside, but she didn’t seem to care. “D-DADDY!”, she wailed, running past the bed and slamming into the beside table with a yelp. Shinsou couldn’t help but laugh (though it was more of a wheeze), and Shinohara directed her to the mattress, picking her up and setting her near Shinsou’s legs. 

Sniffling, Ayame crawled over his limbs and situated herself in the crook of his good arm, mindful of the multitude of tubes and wires decorating the bed. Wrapping her tiny arms around his midsection, she cried into his side, both from relief and an overwhelming amount of emotions that she didn’t quite know how to control yet. 

Shinsou sluggishly draped his arm over her petite body while simultaneously covering her back with her gown, just in case someone else walked in. “Is she okay?”, Shinsou wrote to Shinohara, and the violet-eyed man assured him, “She just has a few bruises, but she’ll be fine. We gave her a checkup this morning, so that’s why she’s running around in that gown. She did not like the tongue compressor, but lollipops seem to make her happy.” 

Ayame dug her hand into a pocket and pulled out a fistful of lollipops, dropping them on the blanket. “Do you-you want one?”, she inquired, tilting her head at her parent, but the Omega shook his head as visibly as he could, motioning to the oxygen mask over his mouth. As much as he wanted to know about how her checkup went to see what they were dealing with in terms of her eyesight, he was growing tired, and rested his head back on the pillows. 

And yet, another guest caught his attention, and he glanced over to see Aizawa in the doorway. He appeared hesitant, which was indeed a rarity, but Shinsou gave him permission to enter. The older Omega smelled of aftershave and sugar (a strange combo), but his rather solemn expression brightened when he saw Shinsou awake and coherent. 

Shinohara left to let them have some time alone, and Aizawa dropped down in the chair. They were mute for a couple minutes, both not knowing what to talk about after that gruesome ordeal. Eventually, Aizawa pulled a sippy cup and a slip of paper out of the bag he was carrying, passing the cup to a now-drowsy Ayame. 

“That nurse told me that she only drinks from those, so I got her one”, he clarified, and the four-year-old drank the warm milk at a steady pace while curling up closer to Shinsou, clearly satisfied. Meanwhile, Aizawa placed the paper on the seventeen-year-old’s lap, and Shinsou quirked an eyebrow curiously, slowly picking it up to read it. 

When his lips parted in surprise, he glanced to the other for an explanation. Setting his elbows on his knees, Aizawa said in a shockingly-timid tone, “Ever since you were expelled, I’ve been trying to gather up enough evidence to prove that you weren’t in a safe home. The PSC is…difficult when it comes to cases like yours, and Hizashi didn’t help, but after this, they finally took action.” 

He leaned forward, genuine affection and protectiveness in his gaze. “Your parents were arrested the morning after you were attacked. They’re in police custody and I promise you, they won’t be getting out anytime soon. When it comes to this”, he gestured to the paper, “Hizashi and I can’t get full custody of you until they’re sentenced, but you can stay with us, and so can Ayame. It’s your choice.” 

Shinsou swallowed audibly, reading over the certificate for adoption one more time. Even if he could talk, he knew he would be rendered speechless. “Hitoshi, I’m sorry that things turned out the way they did. I didn’t want you to be expelled; you were an amazing student, and after you have your pups, they’re letting you return if you want. I think you can still be a great Hero, and I don’t just say that to anyone. I want you to be happy, so this is a chance at that. Either way, you’re free.” 

Something hot trailed down Shinsou’s cheeks. He didn’t realize he was crying until a calloused hand brushed the tears away, and then carefully pulled him into a hug. Shinsou sobbed silently, face buried in Aizawa’s chest, and they stayed like that, holding each other like a parent who had found their child at the end of a war. This war was over, and Shinsou was free. 

He was free. 

He was free. 

He was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that made some people cry from joy, sadness, or both haha. Thank you for reading, and the next chapter will be out soon with overloads of fluff!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and bookmarks are very much appreciated, but I love seeing your guys' critiques/criticisms. Please tell me what you thought, thank you for reading, and stay tuned!  
> (I'll try to update on this as much as I do with "Killing & Dying", so a couple times a week usually).


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